Another Life
by wildsky
Summary: When Cain steps through Horner’s Gate, the world changes in ways he never could have anticipated. Written for the Demilo's Wagon '08 Fic Exchange. Cain/DG.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**A/N: **This story was written for the Demilo's Wagon Christmas Fic Exchange as a gift for kosetsunotenshi. The prompt I chose was "Cain goes away for a while and then comes back". Hugs and kisses to my gorgeous beta, AnEmeraldPoppy, for taking the time to go over this at such a crazy time of year.

**Another Life**

**Part One**

"I don't want you to go."

"DG…"

"No, don't look at me like that – like this is some half-baked rant about hot dogs and how there's no ketchup on this side. I'm serious. I have a really bad feeling about this."

Cain gazed down at the dark-haired woman standing before him with her arms folded across her chest. DG lifted her chin stubbornly, her usually vibrant blue eyes shadowed with concern. She braced her feet apart, steeling herself for an argument – it was a stance he knew all too well after an annual of her company.

"I won't be gone long," he pointed out, though he could not be entirely certain that wasn't a lie.

"Like that matters," she argued. "We walked across the OZ and destroyed the Witch inside of a week. A lot can happen fast."

"We've already had this discussion, Deeg," he said reasonably, turning back to packing the duffel sitting open on the bed of his palace quarters. "The Ixians aren't going to sit around and wait while we hash it out again. In the three days before we got the dispatch, they'd already annexed Morrow and Ragbad and we haven't heard a damn thing since. For all we know, they could have taken over the rest of the Baron Lands as well by now."

"At least wait until after the Evish envoys have gone home," DG tried again, wishing for the umpteenth time that the ambassadors had not insisted on the presence of the 'saviour princess' during the treaty negotiations. "It's only two days and then we can go with you."

"Glitch is in no condition to go anywhere yet," Cain reminded her, "and Raw needs to stay with him. You know that as well as I do."

After cycles of exhaustive research, the alchemical surgery to reconnect Glitch and Ambrose had taken place a little over a week before. While it had gone well, the two halves were having trouble merging into a whole. The former Advisor swung wildly between the two personalities, often with no rhyme or reason, and Raw was the only one who seemed to be able to help the warring identities find a balance.

"Cain, please," DG persisted, moving forward to catch his wrist as he went to place another shirt into the bag. "You're always telling me to listen to my gut, remember?"

"Your gut gets you into trouble."

"My gut told me to let you out of that tin suit. Was I wrong?" she challenged him, holding his gaze. His eyes were his tell and she could see the thoughts lurking behind them.

Cain knew she had good instincts but all the innocent families who had already been crushed by the Ixian soldiers were at the forefront of his mind. He couldn't sit in Central City and do nothing when people were being attacked any more than she could dance the Fliaanese waltz. Damn the man and his code of honour.

His lips thinned. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be, kid."

The knot that had settled into DG's stomach twinged in protest. She had to bite back the urge to order him to stay because she knew that same sense of duty she was currently cursing would not forgive her for it.

Cain saw it in her face – the moment DG knew she had no choice but to let him go. He set down the shirt he was still holding and turned towards her, reaching out to let his fingers curl gently around the nape of her neck. DG went into his arms instantly, her head coming to rest on his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around Cain's middle.

"You'd better be careful," she grumbled in frustration, "or I'll have no choice but to come and rescue you."

His lips twitched upwards. "I know."

"As soon as those Evish idiots are gone, I'm heading south," DG warned him. Cain let out a sigh that somehow managed to convey both irritation and resignation.

"Just promise you won't try to come alone," he said, well aware that she would probably do exactly that unless he made her give her word. "Bring your guards."

"Deal," she replied, nodding against his chest.

"Good," he murmured into her hair.

DG didn't want to relinquish her hold on him. She simply couldn't shake the terrible feeling that something was going to go very wrong. She inhaled his scent – that curious mixture of the outdoors, gun oil and a hint of something uniquely Cain – and felt his fingers slowly stroke the back of her neck.

"Wyatt," she breathed, lifting her head to look at his face.

His gaze dropped to her lips and she stilled, anticipation tingling along her spine. Her heartbeat quickened as his blue eyes travelled up to meet hers again, something flickering in their crystalline depths that they had both been reluctant to acknowledge for very different reasons. They'd been playing a tentative game of hide and seek for cycles.

In the end, Cain laid claim to her mouth the same way he did everything else – with conviction. His lips caught hers and DG was up on her tip-toes, her hands sliding up over his shoulders to hold him to her. She kissed him back, echoing the hunger she could sense in him. One hand tangled in her hair while the other moved down until it was splayed against the small of her back and her curves were moulded to the harder lines of his body.

Cain savoured the taste of her, etching it into his memory. Even if she never let him do this again, even if it wrecked everything, he wanted this one perfect moment with her. Just once, he could pretend it wasn't selfish. He could pretend that DG wasn't a princess half his age and so far from attainable that she may as well have been a star in the night sky.

DG let out a soft murmur of pleasure and stroked the pad of her thumb across his cheek, half-afraid she would open her eyes and find that her overactive imagination was teasing her. Yet the flesh beneath her fingers was warm and real; the mouth dancing against her own was no fantasy. She drank him in, determined to brand him as hers after waiting so long for him to accept the tension simmering between them.

The need for air finally forced Cain to relinquish her mouth and he pressed his forehead to hers, eyes closed as he took a deep breath to steady himself. He heard DG's shaky inhalation and swallowed hard.

"I have to go," he murmured, his tone heavy with regret.

DG shook her head and surged forward to capture his lips with hers all over again, putting every ounce of unspoken desire into the contact. When she finally released him, she reached up to trace the line of his jaw with gentle fingers and looked him squarely in the eyes.

"We're going to finish this when I see you again," she vowed quietly and Cain's heart turned over.

He didn't know what he had been expecting but that sentence had not been anywhere in the realm of possibilities he had considered. He was well aware of his position and hers. A widowed ex-Tin Man was not anyone's idea of a suitable match for a daughter of the royal house.

_No-one's idea except DG's_, a voice in the back of his mind whispered temptingly.

He nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak, and brushed a kiss across her temple. He didn't look at her as he zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder, carrying it down to the waiting convoy of soldiers.

Cain tossed the duffel into the back of the lead truck and climbed into the cab, tormented by the feminine scent that lingered on his clothes.

**ooOOOoo**

Two days later, Cain could barely see the battlefield through the smoke. Heat washed over the soldiers in waves, battering them with ash and soot. They coughed and choked on the thickening air, breaking ranks as oxygen became more important than discipline.

Snatches of a language he didn't recognize taunted him, the rhythmic tones carrying on the wind, and fire raged in response, destroying everything in its path. The hills were black with blood and scorched earth.

The soldiers of the Zone had been doing well until the second day. The enemy forces had been taking prisoners and Cain had been determined to find out what was being done with them. The truth had nearly made him gag.

The Ixians were taking their orders from a Gods-damned Magus – a sorcerer with a taste for flesh. He was bleeding those he captured and draining them dry. They'd watched him anoint himself with the crimson liquid, heedless of the bodies at his feet, and drink it like wine.

If Cain's bullet hadn't stopped a full foot away from the sorcerer's head, the battle would have been long over.

Instead, the lawman found his forces losing more ground by the hour as they were driven back by a wall of flame that they could find no way to breach. Water was useless, seeming to only feed the beast and make it stronger.

Cain's eyes stung and he coughed hard, his lungs protesting against the tainted air he had been breathing for longer than he wanted to think about. He adjusted the bandana that he wore to shield his nose and mouth. He had been compelled to take it from one of his fallen men or risk inhaling the cinders that floated on the wind. They'd been reduced to trying to stay low, beneath the main body of smoke, and searching for a way to escape the inferno.

"_Edrada mian sha… thèla ska dia_…"

Cain's jaw clenched as the deceptively melodic words seemed to resonate all around him, a steady beat beneath the roaring of the fire and the constant shouting and hacking of his men. He needed to find a way to stop the Magus before the body count climbed any higher.

Before DG kept her word and came after him. The thought of her charging headlong into this slice of hell made his blood run cold.

_Gods, DG, for once in your life, break a promise. Please_.

He could hear the Ixian lines marching towards them in the wake of the conflagration. The Magus couldn't be far from the men he was commanding – not if he was close enough for Cain to listen to pieces of his chant. The Tin Man clutched at the grip of his gun, even knowing that bullets would be ineffective.

What he was about to do was either going to go very right or very, very wrong.

Cain grabbed his second by the collar, hauling the man up to meet his eyes. "Fall back," he barked, trying not a cough as he spoke. "I don't care how you do it. Find a way out."

The soldier's bloodshot eyes went wide. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch," Cain replied grimly, releasing him. "Go."

"But sir –"

"That's a damned order, Stokes!"

The man could only nod as he was consumed by a paroxysm of coughing. Cain started moving, bent double to stay as low as possible while following the sound of the Magus' voice as best he could. For once, the smoke was working in his favour. If he couldn't see them, they couldn't see him.

The heat grew steadily more unbearable, until it felt like his skin was going to crack. He screwed his burning eyes shut, the lids scraping like sandpaper. With each step the sounds of massed humans receded until only the Magus' measured tones remained, underscoring the firestorm that did his bidding. Even the warlock's voice began to fade and Cain tried to ignore the warning bells in his head that were telling him what a monumentally bad and dangerous idea this was.

He dragged in a breath and held it, trying to stop the pressure in his chest from exploding into another hacking fit. Losing it halfway was definitely not going to do him any favours. He looked up from where he had his hands braced against his knees and stared at the blaze.

_Just like passing your hand over a candle. You only get burned if you stop_.

He couldn't afford to think about it. He burst into a sprint and brought an arm up to protect his head as he barrelled through the firestorm, not daring to stop until the terrible sensation of his skin shrivelling had begun to ebb. He skidded and rolled onto the searing ground, putting out the flames that were eating away at the bottom of his duster. His chest rebelled and he couldn't move, the fight to fill his lungs causing them to spasm painfully.

At long last, he regained enough control to push himself up onto his knees. The fire was still consuming everything in its path as it advanced, putting badly needed distance between him and the Ixian maelstrom. With an effort, Cain struggled to his feet and began listening for any sign of the Magus.

There was nothing left to guide him but the most distant of echoes. He shuffled forward, abandoning the charred coat in hopes of cooling down. It didn't take him long to find footprints in the earth, leading him upwards onto the side of the hills covered in rocky outcroppings. The fire had already raged across the high ground, blackening the trees and eradicating the greenery that might otherwise have provided some semblance of shelter.

Cain was shaking by the time he found the cave entrance and stumbled, leaning heavily against the wall of rock. Even with his head starting to spin, he knew he was in bad shape. He couldn't seem to get enough air. His lungs screamed for oxygen yet he couldn't breathe deeply enough to satisfy them. He yanked down the smoke-soaked bandana, as if that were impeding the flow of air. His gun felt heavier than it ever had as he forced himself to keep going, dropping the hammer with a _click_.

_If at first you don't succeed… keep shooting_.

The Magus was reciting more of the strange language Cain had heard on the front lines, his voice calm and flowing over the rolling vowels and consonants like water over stones in a brook.

"_Kira thida mian sha, edrada dia ska_…"

Cain crept closer, all of his concentration focused on remaining unseen and unheard. He heard the first hint of a wheeze emerge from his throat and stopped, inwardly cursing.

The Magus continued the spell and Cain watched as a shape seemed to swim into focus out of the stone – a doorway surrounded by carvings. The sorcerer touched six of the symbols and the centre seemed to come alive in a flash of rippling white light. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds but it gave Cain the time he needed to sneak up to the warlock.

Cain grabbed hold of the Magus' arm, halting him mid-way through the portal. The Magus struggled against his grip, thrashing like a madman to get free.

"You're not going anywhere, you murdering bastard," Cain growled, the words punctuated by a wracking cough.

"Release me!" the Magus cried in desperation as the colour was leached from his skin. Cain strained against the tide that seemed to be sucking the man in until finally, with a crazed snarl, the Magus' fingers clamped down on Cain's arm in return. Blazing black eyes burned into the Tin Man's. "So be it!" The magician let out a blood-curdling scream and was pulled in so abruptly that Cain was jerked forward, his arm disappearing up to his elbow.

He tried to pull his limb free but he found himself being dragged in the opposite direction instead, his shoes grinding into the dirt as he tried to dig his heels in, bracketing his other arm against the stone archway. The tingling in his hand spread up towards his shoulder, followed by a wave of agony so intense that Cain cried out. He was hauled forward inexorably, powerless to fight the force that had hold of him, excruciating pain arcing along his nerve endings as he slipped through the barrier and into the darkness.

The portal quieted, its shining surface receding into the rock until even the symbols were invisible.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**A/N: **Thanks for the pretty reviews! They made my day.

**Part Two**

Cain's head was throbbing as he returned to consciousness for the third… or perhaps fourth time. He kept drifting in and out and couldn't decide whether it would make things better or worse to just slam his skull against the wall and be done with it. He had lost track of time a while ago. He could have been in the cavern for hours or days, though he was leaning towards days if the rough stubble on his jaw was anything to go by.

A few feet away, the warlock's body was outlined in the residual light thrown off by the gate. The Magus had already been dead when Cain had first come to, his black eyes wide and staring, his face contorted in pain.

The stone archway loomed over the both of them, its heart no more remarkable than any other surface he could see. Every time he had managed to get to his feet, he'd tried to remember the order of symbols the Magus had used to activate it after his initial explorations had failed to yield another way out. He had tried dozens upon dozens of combinations and though he was convinced that he was close, he had yet to succeed.

To make matters worse, the air in the Gods-forsaken place wasn't precisely fresh and his abused lungs didn't like it one bit. He had spent more than his fair share of time curled up with his arms holding his stomach as he coughed up mucus that he was fairly certain wasn't supposed to be a murky grey. He would have given anything for Raw's healing touch at that moment. Thirst and hunger were his next worries. He hadn't been able to find any water anywhere and his lips were cracked and bleeding. Food was taking second place simply because dehydration killed more quickly than starvation.

DG would have arrived in the Baron Lands by then if the Evish envoys had left on time. That thought spurred him to try to get to his feet, leaning against the smooth wall for support. His muscles cramped as he moved, making him wince, and his fingers prickled as he gripped the stone door. He shook his head to try to clear it and immediately regretted the action as his migraine got worse.

_Focus, damn it_, he chided himself, trying to remember where he had left off the last time he'd started experimenting. _I spent eight annuals in a tin suit. This is nothing._

He could see Glitch shaking his head at that idea. _Sorry, Tin Man, but you're in trouble if you lose even five percent of your water volume_. _Did you know they say it's just like a really bad hangover? I remember the night after graduation_…

One by one, he touched six carved symbols and waited.

Each etching was unique and looked vaguely like the picture language they had seen outside the Witch's cave at Finaqua. Some were circular, like the symbol he had seen on DG's palm. Others were square or curled into a shape that had no end and no beginning. He was fairly sure that the two were related, at least, but history was not something he had excelled at studying.

Nothing. Again and again and again. One mixture of glyphs after another, doing his best not to repeat a sequence he had already tried. His legs were shaking beneath him. He closed his eyes and braced himself against the dormant entrance as a wave of vertigo washed over him.

_Come on, Cain. You have to get out of here if you ever want to see DG again_. _You saw the damn magician open the portal. You're pretty sure you've got the first four right. Just two more. That's all_…

_Gods help me if I need that mumbo-jumbo spell to open the lock as well_, he thought grimly. He was definitely screwed if that was the case.

His only comfort was that the Magus was dead in the cave with him instead of outside burning the OZ down around a certain reckless princess. Without the sorcerer, the Ixians would hopefully be much easier to subdue.

He summoned up an image of DG as he had last seen her with her dark hair mussed from having his fingers tangled in it and her lips parted and swollen from kissing him. The memory rose up like a talisman, chasing away the hopeless feeling that had begun to settle into the pit of his stomach.

He reached out and chose two final markings, crossing his fingers like DG did – a silly Other Side custom he'd picked up from her.

The gateway lit up like a Sin Street neon sign in the gloom and Cain actually staggered backwards, blinking as he was momentarily blinded. The swirling barrier quickly settled back into a shimmering white that rippled like water. For a second Cain couldn't believe it. He lunged for it as quickly as his exhausted limbs would allow and found the return journey only caused a twinge of discomfort – Cain slid through like he was greased.

Or maybe he was too drained and disoriented to feel it. It was a distinct possibility.

He walked unsteadily out of the cave, lifting a hand to shield himself from the light that was far too intense after days in the dark. He looked away, tears meandering down his cheeks as his eyes watered in response. Eventually, his eyes stopped weeping and he could vaguely see where he was going if he kept his eyelids at half-mast.

The sky was a brilliant blue, without a wisp of cloud to obscure the colour but as he carefully made his way down the side of the hill, he stared at the barren landscape in consternation.

Not a single thing grew for as far as the eye could see. Beneath his feet, the ground was parched and cracked, devoid of all life. No ash, no burned remains of buildings or trees testified to the fiery horror the Ixian Magus had wrought. There was just… nothing. It was all scorched earth and rock, as if nothing and no-one had lived there in the first place. The air was cool and crisp, untainted by smoke.

Only one thing broke the monotony of the landscape – a tall, tapering structure that he couldn't quite make out from that distance. He walked towards it, tired and aching and thirsty beyond belief, still coughing hard enough to make his ribs hurt. Eventually, he realized it was a pillar, shining silverly in the light of the suns.

He gazed up at the white marble obelisk, the patterns on the sides sharpening as he got closer until he realized they were names. Names he recognized such as Gregory Lassiter, Hugh Fernwood, Anton Stokes…

Stokes. His second-in-command.

His brain was shouting a denial as he circled the memorial in bewildered disbelief, seeing more and more people listed. The entire structure was covered in them. Hundreds of them.

A plaque drew his eye and he read the inscription, the sinking feeling in his chest getting worse by the second.

_In honour of those brave souls who fell in the Battle of the Baron Lands to protect the people of the Outer Zone._

Cain's gaze dropped to the name directly beneath the dedication and felt his legs give out at last. He hit the ground with an unceremonious thud and pushed a shaking hand over his hair.

_Oh Gods, no_.

'Wyatt Cain' had been carved into the monument. He couldn't tear his eyes away from it, trying to understand how everything could have been wiped clean in only a few short days. Where was the army? Where was DG, who would never give up searching for someone she cared about unless a body turned up? Where were the survivors of the Ixian attacks or the Ixian forces for that matter?

What the fucking hell had happened?

A stab of fear for DG forced him back up and he scoured every inch of the cairn for her name. Relief flooded him when he didn't find it but thirst clawed at him instead, his body crying out for something – anything – to drink. He tried to remember what he had seen on the maps and during the battle. There was a creek around there somewhere — he and his men had tried to use its contents to fight back the flames.

Thinking took more effort than it should have and the suns beating down on him weren't helping matters. He was starting to shiver again, the roaring in his ears growing louder by the second.

_Move it, Tin Man_, he growled. _Water to your right_.

Navigating wasn't easy. With the land scoured bare, any landmarks he'd seen when he arrived were gone. He couldn't even walk in a straight line, his sense of balance betraying him. He thought he was imagining things when he heard the faint trickle but followed the sound nonetheless. He lurched towards the bank and was on his knees without conscious direction, scooping up handfuls of cool water. He drank as much as he dared, interspersed with fits of hacking, knowing his empty stomach probably wouldn't react well if he took too much too fast. He ended up sprawled on his back, rolling over every so often to swallow more of the fluid.

All the while he was trying to work out what could have happened in a few short days. Monuments weren't uncommon on battlefields after the fact but so soon? Where were the military patrols? The people who'd lost their homes?

His immediate need finally quenched, Cain glanced up at the suns to gauge the time and figured it was mid-afternoon. He needed to move again. Based on what he had seen, his chances of being found if he stayed put looked slim at best.

His leg muscles hurt but obeyed his commands. Cain looked up at the sky once again, taking a moment to fight through the fog in his head and remember which direction was north. He ambled along until he was beginning to see some greenery in his surroundings and the suns were starting to sink below the horizon. It was only then that Cain saw the faint outline of a small house.

_If that's a mirage, I may just kill something_. His mind had already played a few tricks on him along the way.

Thankfully, the cottage seemed corporeal enough for his needs when he got close enough to knock on the door. He was thirsty all over again and felt like he could sleep for days. He heard some shuffling about inside and knocked again. His knees were threatening to buckle on him any second.

The plump, matronly woman who opened the door stared at the blackened, charred soldier standing at her threshold. Her mouth fell open at the sight of his skin, so pale it was almost grey, and his bloodshot, dark-ringed eyes.

Cain opened his mouth to speak and felt his chest tighten again, doubling him over as he tried to breathe through the coughing fit. He sagged against the arms that were supporting him and saw the tell-tale spots dancing through his vision that meant he was going to pass out.

"Help me…"

**ooOOOoo**

"Oh my Gods, it's really him," he heard a familiar voice say with a hint of wonder and confusion. _Glitch?_ "Raw, are you sure? Maybe you should check again."

_Raw? _It was ridiculous how much better their presences made him feel, even if he was hallucinating.

"Raw already check twice," was the reasonable reply.

"Oh. Right."

"Our Cain. Not trick. Alone in the dark, hurting."

"He was a prisoner?" There was a slight hitch in Glitch's voice that didn't sound right.

"Raw not know," the Viewer said sadly as Cain's still-stinging eyes opened a crack and his surroundings slowly came into focus. He was in a low, soft bed with pillows beneath his head. Glitch and Raw were on the other side of the room, clearly unaware that he could hear them.

"Take more than that to kill me…" Cain murmured hoarsely. The two men started at the sound of his voice and hurried over to him, Glitch smiling cheerfully as he hovered over his friend.

"You, my friend, seem to have nine lives," he observed with a chuckle as Cain's brow furrowed in confusion at the change in the Zipperhead's appearance.

First and foremost, the zipper was gone and the only evidence that it had been there in the first place was a thin white scar that protruded from Glitch's hairline by about a centimetre. Cain had never heard of anyone recovering from brain surgery that fast, even with a Viewer on call to lend a helping hand.

"Friends missed Cain," Raw said softly. "Glad to have Tin Man back."

"The feeling's mutual, furball," Cain rasped and was pleasantly surprised to find that while he was a bit short of breath, he didn't feel like he was going to cough up a vital organ or two at any given moment. He suspected that he had Raw to thank for that.

"Think you could stomach something to eat?" Glitch asked. "Mrs Kuttenklip has been keeping some broth warm for you."

Cain nodded mutely and carefully manoeuvred himself into a sitting position while Glitch bustled away. Raw arranged the pillows behind the Tin Man's back like a furry mother hen.

"Raw," Cain croaked quietly, his blue eyes searching out the Viewer's darker ones. "Is DG here?"

"DG okay," Raw assured him. "See her soon."

Cain hadn't missed the fact that Raw had avoided answering him. His eyes narrowed.

"Here we go!" Glitch enthused, returning with a tray of thin soup and placing it in Cain's lap with a flourish. "The finest chicken broth in three counties, I'm told."

Cain quirked an eyebrow, noticing the signs of understated anxiety both men were exhibiting as he picked up the spoon and began tentatively consuming the contents of the bowl. He was keenly aware that they were staring at him and it was making him feel like a zoo exhibit.

"Never seen anyone eat before?" he said blandly after swallowing his second mouthful.

Glitch and Raw exchanged a guilty look.

"Sorry, Cain," Glitch replied. "It's just kind of… surreal, I guess." He hesitated before continuing. "We thought you were dead."

"I know," Cain rumbled, staring down at the broth. "I saw the obelisk."

Glitch's eyes widened and he pursed his lips, holding his tongue. Cain knew that look. It meant he was busting to ask a question. Raw placed a hand on the former headcase's shoulder and Glitch sighed, seemingly resigned to silence.

Cain refrained from rolling his eyes. He wasn't accustomed to anyone in their little circle walking on eggshells around him and the way they were clearly censoring themselves was enough to make him grind his teeth in frustration.

"Out with it, Zipperhead," Cain growled and the scientist mouthed 'thankyou' to the sky.

"Where were you?" Glitch blurted out, seating himself on the side of the bed. "We looked everywhere! The hills, the dales, the rivers – anywhere we could think of and even some places I don't think we'd heard of. Raw couldn't sense you anywhere and DG's magic didn't work. All we found was your hat and coat and they were all burned up…"

"Should have tried the caves," Cain interjected tonelessly when Glitch stopped for breath. "Chased the damn Magus up there and ended up trapped on the other side of some kind of magic gate."

"A gate?" Glitch repeated, looking stricken. "Cain, we searched the caves – all of them. We never found any gate."

Cain bit back the urge to tell him they couldn't have looked very hard if they hadn't spotted a large, ornate stone archway with twelve symbols carved into it protruding from the rock. He had never been good at keeping his temper in check when he was sick or injured. Unfortunately, the look on Raw's face told him that the Viewer knew what had been on the tip of his tongue.

"The Magus opened it. I tried to stop him but ended up getting sucked in with him," Cain explained instead. "It took forever to figure out how to get it working again so I could get out."

"And the Magus?" Glitch prompted him.

"Dead," Cain replied flatly. "I must have passed out. The body was cold when I came to."

"Alone in the dark," Raw intoned softly, finally putting what he had sensed earlier into context. "Hard to breathe. Hard to see. Hurt to move."

"Sounds about right," Cain muttered under his breath, ladling more broth into his mouth. His stomach was crying out for the sustenance and enclosed spaces weren't his favourite conversation topic.

"All that time…" Glitch mumbled distractedly, looking like he was trying to unravel a particularly complicated riddle. "Your injuries though… surely you weren't in this condition the whole time?"

"There wasn't exactly a hospital around the corner," Cain deadpanned, his brows drawing together at the question. He felt like he was missing something vital, some piece of information that they knew that he didn't.

All the inconsistencies he had encountered since he'd emerged from the cavern ran through his mind.

"What aren't you two telling me?" Cain inquired shrewdly, looking from Glitch to Raw and back again.

"Cain needs to rest," Raw began.

"Where's DG?" Cain asked more harshly than he intended to.

"Uh… yeah, about that," Glitch began awkwardly. "She doesn't actually know about you yet."

"What?" Cain asked in confusion. "Why?"

"Well… we wanted to make sure that it was really _you_ first," the former advisor explained. "When the message arrived, we told DG we had some business down south and here we are. You can't be too careful. Do you have any idea how many fake Wyatt Cains came out of the woodwork in the first few cycles? I'm telling you, it wasn't –"

"First few cycles?" Cain echoed, cutting Glitch off mid-ramble. He was sure the man had to be misfiring. "What the heck are you talking about, Zipperhead? I've only been gone a few days."

Glitch frowned, regarding Cain with worry in his brown eyes. "Cain, it's been more than a few days."

"Okay, so a week?" Cain replied, running a hand over the stubble that had grown during his time in the cave. It couldn't have been any longer than that, surely. He certainly hadn't been shaving while he was half-conscious.

Raw stepped forward. "Cain gone for four annuals."

Cain stilled, every muscle in his body locking. He stared at Raw, trying to process what the Viewer had said.

_No. No, no, no…_

"That's impossible," he said, shaking his head.

"Four annuals, five cycles and twenty-one days to be exact," Glitch said gently.

"That's not funny," Cain growled, his guts twisting.

"No, Cain, it's not," Glitch agreed. "I don't understand. Are you saying that you went through that gate only two or three days ago? Your injuries are certainly consistent with smoke inhalation and dehydration and you couldn't have survived in that condition for this long otherwise but –"

"Shut up, Glitch."

Cain's head was spinning all over again. It felt like the ground was shifting beneath him. The number Glitch had verbalized staggered him.

"Ambrose tell truth," Raw stated sadly. "Friends look for long time but no Cain. No trace."

Cain scrubbed a hand over his face, struggling to take it in. It couldn't be true. It didn't feel true. He _knew_ he had only been in that cave for a few days at most. He knew that for a fact. Just four, maybe five days ago he'd been kissing DG… His heart constricted. It had been four annuals for her since that kiss. Four annuals, five cycles and what? Twenty four, maybe twenty five days?

"What the hell happened?" he croaked in disbelief.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**Part Three**

Cain gazed out of the window of the car as Glitch – _no_, the Tin Man reminded himself, _his name is Ambrose now_ – navigated the roads that led towards Central City. He had barely spoken a word after listening to the headcase's long-winded recitation of the outcome of the battle and their search for him.

Apparently the sorcerer's fire had permanently damaged the Baron Lands, which were now called the Barren Lands instead. Nothing had grown there in the annuals since. With the Magus gone, the reinforcements DG had brought with her had managed to defeat the Ixian forces but only a few of Cain's men had made it out alive. That had been two nights ago and Cain was still trying to figure out how to react.

It was like coming out of the iron suit all over again. The first time he'd lost eight annuals. Now he had lost another four and he still couldn't quite bring himself to believe it. He had found his stride again after losing Adora, after finding that his son had grown from a boy into a man without him. He had finally started to move on and the rug had been pulled out from under him yet again.

Only there was no-one to hunt this time, no-one to blame except a dead Magus.

DG. His mind kept returning to her, replaying their last discussion over and over again. She had told him she thought something bad was going to happen and it turned out that she was right. In fact, 'bad' seemed to be an understatement. It wasn't often that an entire county was scorched bare.

Cain pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing against the headache that hadn't quite faded. Overall, he was in much better shape than he had been when he'd collapsed on Mrs Kuttenklip's doorstep but he still felt like he could sleep for a week. Then again, knowing his luck, he'd wake up and find out another decade had gone by.

He was aware of Raw watching him in concern. The Viewer was buckled into the back seat, a silent yet comforting presence. He hadn't tried to give Cain any false platitudes or assurances that everything would be okay. He was just there and Cain was grateful for the space.

Ambrose glanced at him anxiously, as if he were trying to work out what to say. Cain looked over at him expectantly.

"I think Raw and I should tell DG that you're back," Ambrose suggested. "Before she sees you, I mean."

"Ever heard of calling ahead?" Cain asked and Ambrose made a face.

"Give me a break, Cain. I don't exactly know how to explain to her that you walked through a gate where time pretty much stopped."

"I don't know, that sounded pretty good to me," Cain pointed out.

"It's complicated," Ambrose hedged.

"It always is with DG," the Tin Man sighed. "So how about you fill me in?"

Ambrose's eyes flicked to the rear-vision mirror, to Raw, and the increasingly annoying awareness that he was missing something big assailed Cain. It was becoming a very familiar sensation and it was driving him crazy.

"What?" he prompted them curtly, his patience reaching its limit.

"DG engaged," Raw spoke up hesitantly and Cain suddenly felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. He swallowed hard and looked back out the window, wrestling his emotions back under control.

Cain cleared his throat. "And why would that make it complicated?" he asked, his voice gruff to his own ears.

"Cain –" Ambrose began.

"Don't," Cain said tautly, blue eyes pinning the driver with an angry glare. "What else have you not told me that I should know about?"

**ooOOOoo**

"My lady?"

DG looked up from the stack of papers she had spent her time after dinner wading through to find Ambrose's bespectacled assistant, Thayer, poking his head around the door. She immediately gestured for him to come in.

"Hey, Thayer, what's up?" she asked, happily setting aside the chore in hopes of some form of distraction.

"You asked to be notified when Sir Ambrose and Sir Raw returned," Thayer reminded her.

"Should I consider myself notified?" she asked with a slight lift of the lips.

"Yes, my lady," he replied with a smile.

"Thank you, Thayer," she called after him as he ducked out again. With a groan, she leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms up into the air.

"Keeping a rather close eye on those two, aren't you?" Ethan asked from where he was reading a report by the window. "Since when do you ask to be told when they come and go?"

DG looked over at her fiancé and rolled her eyes. "Since they left without saying anything except that the southern guilds were calling their names. When was the last time Glitch went anywhere without telling us more than we wanted to know about what he was doing?"

"Never, I suppose," Ethan conceded with a shrug. "What do you think they're up to?"

"Who knows?" DG sighed, pushing herself out of her seat. "But I intend to find out."

Ethan smiled in amusement. "Have fun."

"Will do," she assured him as she sailed out of the door.

**ooOOOoo**

Cain alighted from the car into the cool night air and stared up at the backside of the Central City Palace, feeling as if he was being smuggled in like contraband. When he had voiced that observation, Ambrose had laughed it off and then gone really quiet. Raw had simply stated that they didn't want DG finding out he was back by accident before they had a chance to talk to her. Cain could understand their reasoning but there was still a part of him that would have preferred to walk in through the front door and get it over with.

The doors were flung open and a well-groomed young man emerged, sporting a coiffe that reminded Cain forcefully of the portrait of Ambrose that hung in the Northern Palace. He was actually kind of glad that the advisor had kept Glitch's crazier hairstyle. It made Cain feel less like his friend had been swallowed up by Ambrose. He could still see flickers of Glitch within Ambrose, especially when he rambled.

"Ah, Thayer!" Ambrose greeted the younger man. "We'll need you to inform the princess that we need to see her. It's urgent."

Thayer didn't respond. He had caught sight of Cain and was staring at him with wide-eyed disbelief written across his features. His mouth opened and closed like that of a fish. "But Sir… Sir Ambrose, isn't that… He looks just like the pictures of…"

"_Sir_ Ambrose?" Cain asked, one eyebrow rising in query. "You were knighted?"

"Oh yeah, we all were," Ambrose enthused and then his face fell. "Except in your case it was kind of posthumous."

"Right," Cain said dryly. "Wonderful."

"Great honour," Raw said sagely.

"_Now_, Thayer," Ambrose said firmly, glancing back at his assistant, who seemed to snap out of his daze and hurried back inside. He turned to Cain. "Ready?"

Cain gave him a look that spoke volumes and began making his way up the stairs, feeling ridiculously naked without his coat and hat – they were his armour. Sure, he still had his gun but he was out of ammunition so it was pretty much useless unless any threats came close enough to be cold-cocked rather than shot.

The clothes he was wearing didn't belong to him. His had been charred and stained and stank so badly of smoke that he had ended up telling Ambrose to get rid of them. Mrs Kuttenklip had generously donated a few items from her late husband's wardrobe and apologized that they were a bit big for him. Cain had shrugged, cinched his belt tighter and thanked her for all her help.

He was halfway to the door when it was thrown open again and DG materialized in his line of sight.

"Raw, Glitch, what's so secret you've gotta bring it in the ba…"

Cain had frozen the moment he'd caught sight of her and he watched her stop dead in her physical and verbal tracks. DG's ivory skin drained of what little colour it had held in the first place, her smile faltering. Her enormous blue eyes were locked on his face, her expression stunned.

Cain's heart seemed to be beating a mile a minute as he waited for her to react; to do or say something. Her mouth moved but no sound emerged.

"Hey, Deeg," he said at last, breaking the endless silence.

As if the sound of his voice had been the signal she had been waiting for, DG seemed to shake herself out of her shocked stupor. She pursed her lips and approached him slowly, finally reaching out to lay a hand on his chest, directly over his heart. Her eyes flew up to his face and he saw it there – the fear that he was some figment of her imagination that would evaporate right in front of her.

"It's me, kid," he said quietly, holding her gaze, covering her hand with his. "Sorry I'm late."

She glanced at Ambrose and Raw, both of whom nodded.

DG let out something that was halfway between a laugh and a sob and leapt at him, enfolding him a tight hug. For a moment Cain just buried his face in her hair and breathed her in, the sheer relief of having her in his arms overshadowed by the knowledge that she wasn't _his_ DG any more and never really had been.

Somewhere inside the Palace was the Fliaanese prince who would become her husband.

He didn't want to let her go – not ever – but he had little choice in the matter. He drew back slowly, setting her back from him with an aching spirit.

"Where the hell have you been?" she asked with tears in her eyes and her voice.

"I think we should move this to somewhere more private, Doll," Ambrose advised kindly. "We'll explain everything, I promise."

DG sniffed inelegantly and nodded, ushering Cain inside with a hand on his elbow. She seemed reluctant to relinquish physical contact as she guided the trio through the Palace and towards the rooms that had once been his. He gave her a questioning look as she went to open the door with a key.

"None of us wanted to move your stuff out," she admitted, her cheeks flushing, "so we just left your rooms the way they were."

The double doors swung open and Cain stared at the apartments that he had left behind barely a week ago by his count. White sheets covered the larger furniture but otherwise, everything appeared exactly as it had when he had packed his bag that day. DG quickly pulled the coverings away to reveal the simple, dark wooden furnishings that Cain had preferred over the fancier pieces that could be found throughout the complex.

Cain fought down the wave of memories that threatened to spill over into the present. DG in his arms, her lips moving with his, his hands in her hair…

He had to keep reminding himself that annuals had passed for everyone else in his absence. It still seemed unreal, as if he would wake up and find it had been nothing more than a nightmare.

DG bundled up the sheets and tossed them into a corner, her teeth tugging at her lower lip as she turned to face her friends again. Her eyes wandered to Cain and stayed there.

"You're not going to disappear on me, are you?" she asked anxiously. She sounded so young, so vulnerable, and the next thing he knew she was hugging him again. He held her tightly and heard Ambrose and Raw closing the double doors, leaving the four of them alone.

"I'm not going anywhere," he reassured her, stroking her soft dark hair.

"Good," she whispered in his ear and drew back, looking like she couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. "Now, will you please tell me what happened before I explode?"

Cain recited the story of the firestorm, of following the Magus and being pulled into the portal. DG listened without uttering a word, chewing on her lower lip as he recounted everything. He watched her expression throughout the tale, the way her eyes flashed from anger to sadness.

"Days?" she choked out when he was finished. "You've only been gone days?"

Cain nodded. "I came out of there thinking I'd find our forces still fighting the Ixians."

"How is that possible?" DG demanded, her uncomprehending gaze searching out Ambrose. "Who's powerful enough to mess with time?"

"I don't know, Doll, but I intend to find out," Ambrose told her. "Tutor and I are going to be hitting the books for a while on this one."

"So the pooch is still around, huh?" Cain looked over at the princess. "How'd those magic lessons turn out?"

"Pretty good," DG said lightly. "I'm not a total magical spaz any more. I'm starting on the more advanced stuff."

"Do we still need to duck for cover?" Cain asked Ambrose and Raw, relaxing a little as he warmed to the neutral topic. DG's antics had always been a source of amusement in the past.

"Hey, come on, I wasn't that bad," DG protested. "I was kind of unpredictable, that's all."

"In more ways than one," Ambrose grinned and she made a face at him.

"DG had big gift, small leash," Raw added, shooting a teasing look at the princess.

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled good-naturedly.

"Well!" Ambrose grinned as he threaded his arm through Raw's. "I think we should let you two catch up, huh?"

Cain's easy expression died and he shook his head at the former headcase, glaring at him. Ambrose ignored him though Raw had the grace to look apologetic.

"After all, we've had you to ourselves for two days," Ambrose continued. "It's only fair that she gets to make up for some lost time too." With a jaunty wave, the advisor swanned out of the room with Raw in tow.

_I'm going to kill him_, Cain fumed.

DG waited until the door clicked to a close before letting her eyes shift towards him. She seemed to be considering what to say next.

At long last she settled on "Are you okay?"

"Been better," he replied honestly. Let her interpret his answer however she wished.

"We looked for you," she tried again, her voice hushed. "I swear, Cain, we looked everywhere."

"I heard. Don't worry about it, princess."

She frowned slightly at his non-committal tone. He sounded too much like the Wyatt Cain who had first emerged from the iron suit – a man determined to put distance between himself and everyone around him. She knew it had been a defence mechanism but she had never thought she would be on the receiving end of it again.

"I missed you," she murmured, giving him pause. He felt his guard slip a little in response.

"I missed you too," he rumbled, silently berating himself for letting himself say it. He had made up his mind back in the car that he was going to bury it. The moment Ambrose and Raw had confessed that she had moved on, he'd known it was the only course of action left to him.

"It wasn't the same without you here."

"I know what you mean," he said, refusing to read anything deeper into that statement. "I'd gotten used to having you three along whenever trouble reared its ugly head." He took a deep breath and held it for a moment. "This is…"

"Weird," she supplied.

"Yeah."

"Mmm-hmm."

Her gaze fell to the floor and Cain took the opportunity to study her. Like Ambrose, DG looked different. If he wasn't mistaken, every piece of clothing she was wearing had been tailored, from the turquoise silk blouse to the fitted black skirt. Her bangs had grown out and gently framed her face, giving her a more classical look than the princess he had left behind.

The girl he remembered had been like an uncut diamond – a treasure with a lot of rough edges. The woman who now stood before him seemed a lot more polished except that his arrival had thrown her off-balance.

Either way, she drew his eyes like a magnet and he had to consciously look away.

"So… I hear congratulations are in order," he said uncomfortably, staring down at his hands as he did so.

"Congratulations?" she echoed faintly.

"Glitch and the furball told me that you're getting married," he elaborated, forcing the words past the tightness in his chest. He cleared his throat and looked up at her. "That's great. I'm really happy for you."

Her blue eyes clouded. "You are?" There was a quiver in her voice that hadn't been there before.

Cain forced a smile. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Thanks," she said weakly. "He's a good guy."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

Awkward silence descended upon them, blanketing the room with unspoken tension.

"I should probably clean up," Cain decided at last, gesturing towards the adjoining bathroom.

"Uh… do you mind if I… stay for a while?" she asked, shifting uneasily as she made the request. "I just wanted to talk some more… when you're finished."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," he demurred. "I should really turn in. It's been a long week and I need to find Jeb tomorrow."

"Sure," she replied tautly. "Right. Of course." She nodded, her lips thinning. "I guess this is goodnight then."

"Goodnight, DG," he said stiffly and retreated to the bathing facilities without waiting to see if she had let herself out. He braced himself against the vanity, inwardly cursing his inability to go back to the way things were before he had tasted her.

_Four annuals_. He chanted it like a mantra. _It's been four Gods-damned annuals for her_. _She's marrying a prince. Let. It. Go_.

One kiss and no promises. That was what it amounted to when all was said and done.

With that thought echoing in his head, Cain started filling the bathtub and shucked his borrowed clothes, casting them aside as steam began to fill the room. When he finally sank into the hot water, he set his mind adrift and tried not to think about how his whole world had been turned upside down for a second time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**Part Four**

DG lay on her back, staring up at the vaulted ceiling of her bedroom. Sleep had been elusive; the hart to her huntress. She had tossed and turned all night and ultimately given up in favour of dwelling on Wyatt Cain.

She would swear under oath that her heart had stopped when she had seen him, dressed in those baggy old clothes and minus his trademark fedora and coat. The last thing DG had expected when she'd followed Thayer down to greet her friends was to find those eyes staring back at her.

She had thought she was seeing things at first and then he'd opened his mouth and said 'Hey, Deeg.' Her throat closed over at the memory, the nickname ringing in her ears like thunder. No-one had called her 'Deeg' since Az…

She remembered the first time he had called her that. Azkadellia had looked over at her sister and lifted a brow, smiling knowingly. That night, DG had spent hours buried under the sheets in Az's room, talking about how DG's crush may or may not have been so one-sided after all.

For months she had stood back, letting Cain come around in his own time and then the Ixian incursion had shattered everything. She'd begged him not to go with the first wave, to wait for her to go with him. DG had felt in her bones that something awful would go horribly wrong if he went alone.

If only Cain had listened to her. God, she hated him for that. She hated him for kissing her, for giving her a sample of what could have been and then leaving to get himself killed. Or not so much killed as trapped in a place where he may as well have been dead as far as the rest of the world was concerned. She was still trying to wrap her head around that part.

DG remembered that kiss like it was yesterday but for him it literally had only been days. That had to be the worst joke the universe had ever played on anyone.

He had actually stood there and congratulated her on her engagement while her guts had twisted up into knots. He had looked her in the eye and said he was really happy for her as every reunion fantasy she had ever dreamed up crashed and burned.

It had taken her four annuals to resign herself to the fact that she still had to marry even if she couldn't have the man she really wanted. She hadn't fooled herself into thinking that there would be anything romantic about a political match but she had at least wanted to like whoever she ended up walking down the aisle with.

So she had chosen Ethan Astaran, younger son of the King of Fliaan.

It had been a mutual agreement between them. He was a nice enough guy and they got on quite well. Better him than some arrogant sleazeball she couldn't stand, like the Quoxian regent. That man made her skin crawl. Ethan had chuckled when she'd said that to his face and admitted that he wouldn't mind being rescued from the attentions of the Lolian grand duchess, whom DG had privately branded a barracuda.

They'd shaken on it and the announcement had been made within the week.

_Wait a second… Ethan_. DG blinked and glanced at the clock. _Crap!_

She leapt out of bed, throwing the covers back as she began searching for something to wear. In the end, she gave up and hurried into the breakfast parlour in her pyjamas and slippers. After all, he would eventually be seeing her in all her morning glory on a daily basis.

Why did that thought suddenly make her feel ill?

The prince looked up from reading the morning _Ozmapolitan_ and got to his feet like the gentleman he was.

"Good morning," Ethan greeted her. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks," she replied numbly as she sat down. Ethan resettled himself and the staff quickly brought in trays of hot food for each of them. DG accepted the steaming mug he passed to her and reached for the sugar.

"You should have a look at page three when you get a chance," he suggested, tapping the newspaper. "There's an interesting article on the mining coalition's demands."

"Mmm-hmm."

"By the way, I spoke with your mother yesterday evening. She says she and Ahamo are thinking of heading down to the hunting lodge in Mogodore for a while."

"Mmm-hmm."

Ethan eyed her speculatively, watching her absently dump spoonful after spoonful of sugar into her beverage.

"You know, your friend Ambrose was shagging one of the maids in the Square this morning. He made quite a spectacle of himself," he said in a perfectly clear voice and wasn't surprised when DG merely nodded vaguely in response. Curious, Ethan waved a hand in front of her face and DG jumped, startled.

"What?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Are you all right?" Ethan queried her.

"I'm fine," she replied automatically.

"Maybe so but your coffee isn't," he observed, nodding at the mug that was overflowing onto the tablecloth after having half a cup of sweetener dropped into it.

"Damn it!" DG swore, grabbing the folded linen serviette in front of her to soak up the spillage. Ethan handed her his napkin as well without a word.

"Does this have anything to do with why Thayer was wandering around as if he'd seen a ghost last night? You two could pass for twins right now."

DG paused in mopping up the mess and flashed a guilty look at her betrothed. "Maybe."

"I'm all ears," Ethan told her calmly.

DG bit her lip and pushed her messy bed hair away from her face. She wasn't sure she could say it out loud yet – she was half afraid that Cain would go _poof_ and vanish if she voiced his return. Then again, she couldn't leave Ethan in the dark, especially when the rest of the palace would find out the moment Cain stepped out of his door. It wasn't as if he knew she had any kind of romantic history with Cain…

"DG?" Ethan prompted her.

"Wyatt Cain's alive," she said in a rush. "Ambrose and Raw brought him back last night."

"The man who helped you stop the Witch? The one who died in the Barren Lands?"

DG nodded and Ethan blinked at her.

"Your friend is back from the dead and you're sitting here ruining perfectly good coffee?" He shook his head as if he couldn't believe his ears and DG had to admit that he had a rather good point as she stared down at the brown stain on the tablecloth.

The problem was that DG didn't really know how to approach Cain. He had been so distant in his quarters, shutting her down when she had asked to hang around for a bit and talk some more. She had stood in his room for a full minute after she heard him start filling the bathtub, torn between staying in spite of his dismissal and retreating to her apartments to completely freak out. She had eventually chosen the latter.

Jeb. Cain had said he wanted to find Jeb.

She glanced at Ethan, who waved her off. "Go."

DG dashed back into her room, grabbing a pair of grey trousers and a white dress shirt. She had never been able to bring herself to wear the fancy dresses that her mother and sister had always favoured except on special occasions. Instead, she had ordered the initially-resistant seamstresses to give her a professional wardrobe reminiscent of the fashions from the Other Side. The results had been mixed at first but with time and practice DG got what she wanted. The fashion critics had been appalled but DG didn't bother with that side of the paper anyway.

She halted briefly to pull a small wooden chest out from under her bed and remove the wrapped contents, sitting them on top of her bed until she was dressed.

Hopping through the sitting room as she tugged on a pair of comfortable black flats, DG stopped just long enough to run a brush through her hair. The irrational fear that she had dreamed the entire thing lurked in the back of her mind, taunting her. She snatched up the bundle from her bed and tried to resist the urge to run down to Cain's chambers.

DG began making her way down the corridor. The staff nodded to her as she passed and she summoned up weak smiles in return. In truth, butterflies were brushing their wings against her insides as she knocked on the Tin Man's door, clasping her offering to her chest.

It suddenly occurred to her that she probably should have spent her wakeful night deciding how to break the news of Cain's return to the kingdom at large. If she thought the staff were going to flip, the general public were going to go crazy. A press release would have been a good idea. Maybe a memo?

Oh hell, not even his son knew that he was back yet, so that might have been premature. Besides, once the Queen, the Consort and anyone else of note got hold of him, Cain would be so tied up with meetings and debriefings and being chased by journalists that it would be weeks before his time was his own again.

Selfish as it was, DG wanted to keep him to herself just a little while longer.

Cain heard the knock and sighed, knowing it could only be Raw, Ambrose or DG. He had a hunch that it wasn't the first two. Ambrose and Raw knew that Cain would tear strips off them for that stunt the previous night. Leaving him alone with DG had never been part of the plan.

Sure enough, when he turned the handle and opened the door a crack, he found DG on the other side with a parcel clutched against her chest. Yet again, she managed to look effortlessly beautiful and Cain had to sternly banish such thoughts from his mind.

"You're up early," he grunted.

"I grew up on a farm," she replied by way of an explanation. "Mind if I come in?"

He was of half a mind to say no but since when could he deny her anything? He stepped back and DG slipped inside, flashing him a shy half-smile.

DG hugged the bundle a little tighter, knowing that if she put it down she would doubtless give in to the desire to run her hands over him and make sure he was real. Cain had obviously raided the closet full of clothes that he had left behind so long ago. He was back in buckskin trousers, a shirt, vest and gun belt. If it weren't for the dark shadows under his eyes, DG would have thought he had never left.

"Looks like you're settling in okay," she said, wondering if it sounded as lame out loud as it did in her head.

Cain spared her a glance and went back to reloading his pistol. "Yeah," he agreed, deliberately keeping his tone as neutral as he could. "I noticed that a few things are missing though."

DG felt her cheeks warming up.

"Oh, uh… after a while, once it looked like you weren't coming back, we all took some keepsakes, if those are what you're looking for," DG told him ruefully. "Raw has your Tin Man badge and Jeb took the toy horse – the one that saved your life in the Northern Palace."

Cain halted, his composure cracking momentarily when she imparted that piece of information. The idea that his friends and son had each taken something to remember him by was humbling.

"Ambrose took that bullet he gave you," she continued. "Remember? The one he put your name on?"

The Tin Man couldn't suppress a chuckle at the reminder of that spectacular example of Glitch's strange logic. DG, Glitch and Raw had found out from Jeb that it was his birthday. With no time to buy him anything to mark the occasion, Glitch had taken a bullet and carved the lawman's name on the side, stating that if Cain owned the bullet that had his name on it, he couldn't get himself killed.

"And I kept these," DG finished, holding out the package she had brought with her. "I thought you'd want them back."

He took the parcel from her, his fingers brushing hers as he did so. His skin tingled from the contact. DG wrapped her arms around her middle, watching as he removed the bindings.

Cain was speechless as he stared down at what she had given him. He lifted his hat from the top of the pile by its pinched front and ran his hand over the brim, the worn felt smooth to the touch. With a pleased tilt of the lips, he placed it on his head and turned his attention to the second article. The duster unfurled as he held it up by the shoulders and his brow furrowed. He stared down at the bottom edge, which showed no signs of the fire damage it had suffered. Come to think of it, neither the fedora nor the coat smelled of smoke.

He shot DG a questioning glance and she shrugged a little, scuffing her shoe on the floor.

"I tried to fix them the old-fashioned way but they were in pretty bad shape," she admitted, "so I asked Tutor to help. It turns out that magic is really good for patching up burned clothes. Gets rid of the stink too."

_Aw, hell_…

"Thanks, kid," he said gratefully, his entire stance softening as he did so.

DG smiled, glad that she had been able to give something back to him… and that he hadn't borne witness to the repair effort. The task hadn't been anywhere near as straight-forward as she would have had him believe, mainly because she had had to communicate her request through a flood of tears that Tutor hadn't been at all prepared to deal with. The poor shapeshifter had been forced to sit through a torrent of crying and hiccups before she had been coherent enough to be understood. Tutor had walked on eggshells around her for weeks afterwards, even going so far as to dial back her magic lessons for a little while.

The hat and coat had been sitting in the chest under her bed ever since, though they had emerged from time to time, particularly in the first few months.

Cain slipped his arms into the sleeves and shrugged it up onto his shoulders. The leather settled around his frame, the familiar weight a comfort amongst so much uncertainty. A trace of a scent wafted up to his nose and he sniffed a little, recognizing the perfume immediately.

Damn it all, his duster smelled like DG.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, picking up on his sudden tension.

Cain shook his head immediately. "Not at all, darlin'." The moment he realized what had slipped out of his mouth, he mentally kicked himself.

DG hooked her thumbs into the pockets of her trousers and tried to stop her heart from turning over at the sound of the rumbling endearment. Cain had always been a man of relatively few words, though he was a veritable Chatty Cathy compared to Raw. He usually said what he meant, leaving no room for misconceptions. It was a quality that she had always liked and respected him for but at that moment she wasn't sure what to make of it.

On the steps the previous night, the way he'd looked at her had taken her back to the day he left for the Baron Lands. He'd held her in his arms and if she could have, she would have crawled inside his skin and stayed there. Yet he had stepped back, leaving her feeling bereft and on the verge of a meltdown of epic proportions. Even now she wasn't any closer to sorting out the jumble of emotions than she had been when she went to bed.

"So you're going to see Jeb?" DG asked, hoping the change of subject might diffuse the sinking feeling in the vicinity of her heart. His son was a relatively safe topic, one that she could handle, and she wasn't quite ready to walk away from Cain yet.

"Yeah, I was just heading out," he replied as he slipped his revolver into the holster.

"Do you know where he lives?"

"Ambrose said he's in Harper Square."

"Harper Square is huge. Do you have the address?" DG persisted.

Cain's lips thinned. "I was going to ask on the way."

"No need," DG told him. "I know where it is. I can show you. Besides, we wouldn't want your son to have a heart attack when you show up on his doorstep. I'll just help with the convincing and get out of your way. Deal?"

"I wasn't looking to advertise the fact that I'm back before I've seen my son. Don't you need your guards and an entourage or something?"

"No entourage, Tin Man," she replied simply, looking up at him with absolute trust in her blue eyes. "Not if you're with me."

The confidence she imbued in that statement warmed Cain in spite of his best efforts. He knew that he couldn't risk wrecking everything she had going for her with emotions that should have been four annuals gone, but the line had blurred for him long ago. He didn't know where loving her as friend ended and loving her as a woman began. The only safe course of action left to him was shutting her out completely but every time he saw her he couldn't bring himself to be heartless.

"Come on," DG urged him, gesturing towards the door. "Let's go."

Cain adjusted his hat so that it obscured his features and walked out of the door with the princess by his side, sending up a silent prayer to whatever deities that might be listening. No-one saw anything unusual in DG being escorted through the palace by a single guard. She led him down towards the cellars.

"Deeg, where are we going?" he asked warily.

"Promise not to tell?" she asked with a hint of mischief. "I've had plenty of time to explore these since you… disappeared," she told him, her voice hitching on the last word. She found the trigger point on the wall and a portion obediently slid aside to reveal a dark tunnel. "It came in handy for getting out when I felt like I was going to go crazy."

Cain poked his head in and raised an eyebrow. "You've been driving your guards crazy too by doing that, I'll bet."

DG grinned as she picked up a woollen coat and scarf from a small alcove. "Maybe a little."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**Part Five**

Cain stared at the metropolis around him and the enormity of the amount of time that had passed hit him full force. When Ambrose and Raw had brought him back, it had been dark and the difference had not been immediately apparent. The last time he had laid eyes on the shining city on the hill, it had still been marred by rust and filth. Now it was clearly well on its way to being restored to pristine condition. The buildings gleamed silverly in the morning sunlight and he felt a pang of regret that he had missed it.

Though he knew the city like the back of his hand, he paused to get his bearings and DG watched his features as he looked his fill. Blue eyes moved over the towering buildings and the people around them, absorbing the changes.

"It looks pretty amazing, huh?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled by the scarf that shielded the lower half of her face from the chilly wind as well as immediate recognition.

He merely nodded and began striding down the street. DG jogged a few steps to catch up and fell into step with him, wondering what was going through his head. He had his hat tipped low over his eyes yet she knew he was acutely aware of everything going on around them. She had never been able to figure out how he managed that – it was a skill beyond her ability to mimic.

"Did Glitch and Raw tell you much about what Jeb's been doing?" she asked when it became obvious he wasn't about to start a conversation of his own volition.

"They said he's married," Cain replied flatly.

_And I missed it._

He may not have said the words but DG could hear that coming through loud and clear.

"It was a really nice little wedding," she offered, unsure if she would be helping by telling him or making things worse. "We all went – me, Glitch and Raw. There were a few Resistance fighters he knew and even Mother and Ahamo made time to go. We were really lucky we managed to keep it quiet or they'd have been swamped by reporters."

"Where'd they have it?" he wondered, his voice slightly rough.

"Gale Park," she told him. "It was fall and the whole place was covered in red, orange and yellow leaves. We offered to let them use the royal gardens but Jeb wanted the park."

"Adora and I used to take him there when we lived in the city," Cain explained. "He could spend hours playing in the leaves."

DG's heart warmed at the image Cain conjured for her. "He didn't tell us that."

"No, he wouldn't," Cain muttered.

"He looked really handsome," DG continued. "I'd never seen him in anything except his rough clothes but Glitch insisted that he couldn't get married in those."

"Tell me that Ambrose didn't dress my son for his wedding," Cain guffawed, thinking of the headcase's wild hair and penchant for embroidered jackets. DG snorted.

"No coat-tails, I promise," she replied. "It was just a nice, tasteful suit. Perfect for a Cain. I've got plenty of pictures back at the Palace if you want to see them."

"I think I'll take you up on that, princess."

"Glitch went a little crazy with the camera," she said fondly and Cain gave her a curious look.

"Tell me something, kid. Raw calls him Ambrose now and I've heard the Zipperhead refer to himself that way," Cain pointed out, "but you still call him Glitch."

"Old habits die hard, I guess," she shrugged. "He's never corrected me."

"Fair enough," he nodded as they began crossing one of the main intersections. They fell into a companionable silence, walking side-by-side through the streets, largely ignored by the people who milled around them. Harper Square was an hour's walk on a good day and DG was glad she had chosen to wear flat shoes. Though she deigned to wear heels for official business, comfort was her first love and always would be. They probably could have taken a cab but there was something relaxing about being nothing more than another face in the crowd.

"Don't you even want to know her name?" DG said after a while, breaking the silence.

"Hannah," Cain supplied, a flicker of amusement swirling in his eyes. "I did ask a few questions when Ambrose and Raw told me I had a daughter-in-law."

_Yeah but I'll bet they left out a couple of pertinent details_, DG mused, resigning herself to an interesting meeting between the patriarch and the newest member of his family.

"I think you'll like her," DG said hopefully. "She's going to make you a grandfather in about four cycles."

"So I heard," Cain said. "They said Jeb's convinced it's a boy."

"And Hannah's convinced it's a girl," DG put in. "I'm putting my money on women's intuition."

"Never thought I'd have grandchildren so soon," Cain mused and DG sighed. She could well imagine that it probably seemed as if someone had snapped their fingers and Jeb had jumped from one life stage to another in the blink of an eye. Cain had lost eight annuals and emerged to find that the son he believed was dead had grown into a competent resistance leader. His relationship with Jeb had only just stabilised when the Ixian attack had occurred. In total, Cain had missed over half of his child's life.

"If it makes you feel any better, you don't look old enough to be anyone's grandfather," she told him honestly and he gave her an inscrutable look. "Seriously, how old are you? I don't think I ever asked."

"I was thirty-four when I went into the suit," he admitted and DG did a quick calculation in her head.

"So you were forty-two when Glitch and I found you," she surmised, "and you'd be forty-seven now if…"

"If I hadn't gotten myself trapped?" he finished for her with a slight edge to his tone.

"If you hadn't been sucked into a time capsule by some freaky Magus," DG agreed. "So physically you're forty-three."

"Sounds about right."

_Eighteen annuals_, she thought to herself and found the number didn't intimidate her at all. She gave him a sidelong look, wishing she could say the same about him. Before he'd vanished, she had been so frustrated with him for refusing to even acknowledge the possibility that it didn't matter. But now, four annuals later DG understood his reasoning – up to a point. She had been twenty-one, only just out of adolescence if she was honest with herself, and he had been acutely aware of that fact.

_That way lies madness_, she thought glumly, remembering a line from high school Shakespeare. No amount of picking it apart would change what had happened and where they had ended up.

At long last they reached Harper Square – one of the 'mixer' districts that were frequented by all types from all walks of life; a rich snob here or there, a few die-away artists, a sprinkling of criminals and questionable characters. If nothing else, life there was never dull.

The location of Jeb and Hannah's home had been a compromise, one that still made DG shake her head sometimes. The resistance fighter's choice of life partner had lifted more than a few eyebrows in the beginning and still did on occasion.

"Here," DG said, steering Cain in the appropriate direction. "Fiyero Street."

She led him towards an old-fashioned townhouse wedged between others of its kind. The street was packed full of such structures and had always reminded DG of old London, though no-one except Ahamo ever knew what she meant by the analogy.

She paused at number fifteen and turned to Cain. "Ready?"

Cain's answer was to walk up to the door and rap on the door with the wrought iron knocker. DG listened and was rewarded by the sound of someone moving about inside. She heard a muffled curse that would have made any dock-worker proud and tried not to grin.

The door finally opened to reveal a frazzled-looking young woman whose cheeks, clothes and strawberry-blonde hair were streaked with flour. Blue-grey eyes swept over Cain, sizing him up in a split-second, and DG smiled as she pulled down her scarf. It was the look everyone got when they first met Jeb's wife.

"Hey, Hannah," DG greeted her and hugged the willowy lass, who promptly pulled her inside.

"One day they're going to catch you and I'll be the one they arrest for princess-napping, you know," Hannah joked as she closed the door behind them. "Who's your friend?" She turned to Cain and hugged him, startling the Tin Man. DG pursed her lips in amusement, well aware that Hannah had ulterior motives for the action.

"Is Jeb here?" DG asked as Hannah released Cain, wearing a mask of polite inquiry. Hannah's expression didn't change but DG could see the wheels turning in the younger woman's mind.

"Sure, you just caught him," Hannah replied lightly, retreating towards the stairs.

Cain looked at DG, the question written across his face. He apparently wasn't quite sure what to make of Jeb's liberally-floured, openly and perhaps overly-affectionate spouse. DG just shrugged.

It didn't take long for Jeb to descend with a dusted-down Hannah by his side.

He took one look at the man standing beside DG and stopped dead, a range of emotions flashing across his features in the space of a heartbeat.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Jeb asked tautly, glaring accusingly at DG, who held up her hands in a placating gesture. Hannah's eyes narrowed.

"Jeb, I swear, it's really him," DG told him, her expression completely serious.

"It's really who?" Hannah asked, planting her hands on her hips as her eyes roamed from her husband and over to their two visitors. She looked Cain up and down with a slight crease appearing between her brows.

Jeb walked forward slowly, staring at Cain as if he didn't quite believe that what he was seeing was real. Hannah followed a pace behind him, clearly trying to work out what was going on.

"Father?"

Hannah's gaze snapped over to DG and she mouthed 'Father?' in disbelief. The princess only nodded.

"It's me, Jeb," Cain replied, his voice thick with emotion he struggled to contain as he beheld his son, who had changed all over again. In the intervening annuals, Jeb had lost the last traces of the softness of youth. His hair was a bit shorter, his shoulders broader. Like DG, he seemed to have grown into his skin. And he was married, of course. The plain gold band that adorned Jeb's left hand was matched by the one on Hannah's.

"Raw checked him, Jeb," DG put in. "Twice."

Jeb swallowed, looking intently at the familiar face, searching for his own confirmation.

"Let's give these two a minute, huh?" DG suggested, herding Hannah towards the kitchen. The princess swung open the door and gaped at the floor, which was covered in flour, and the empty canister lying on its side.

"My balance has been shot over the last cycle or two," Hannah admitted sheepishly, looking down at her distended stomach. "I think in future I'll ask Jeb to get the high stuff down for me."

"You were going to cook?" DG asked doubtfully.

"I was going to try," Hannah replied with a shrug.

DG picked up a dish towel and playfully lobbed it at Hannah's head. "Come on, let's get this mess cleaned up."

Meanwhile, Cain honestly didn't know what to say as he gazed at Jeb. The younger man's expression was a mixture of hope and mistrust.

"You were dead," Jeb said, shaking his head a little. "Again."

Cain heard the slight catch in his son's voice and did the same thing he had in the resistance camp. He stepped forward and pulled Jeb into his arms, ignoring the way his son stiffened at first. He felt the tension drain away slowly and Jeb though returned the embrace hesitantly at first, he finally relaxed and clutched his father fiercely.

"Damn it's good to see you," Cain said, cupping the back of Jeb's neck as he pulled back.

"How?" Jeb asked roughly. "Once I can believe but twice…"

"Magic," Cain replied. "I'll tell you everything but it's a long story."

"I've got time," Jeb said firmly, guiding his father towards the chairs in the small living room. The two men sat down and Cain related his tale all over again, knowing it wouldn't be the last time he was required to do so. Jeb had much the same reaction as everyone else did, ranging from incredulity to sorrow. The time differential staggered him as it had his father.

"Father –" Jeb began, his brown eyes full of regret.

"I know," Cain assured him, giving the younger man's shoulder a squeeze. "I know, son."

"This is unbelievable," Jeb muttered, still struggling to take it in.

"I can't believe you're married," Cain replied with a half-smile. "It seems like yesterday you were eighteen and leading a resistance cell. Now you're a husband with a baby on the way."

Jeb flushed a little. "It's funny how things work out."

"That's a friendly girl you've got there," Cain said with a chuckle. "She hugged me the second I walked in."

Jeb sighed. "Yeah, I've asked her to stop doing that."

"You've asked her to stop hugging people?" Cain was perplexed.

Jeb met his father's eyes, his lips curving upwards at the corners. "I think you'd better meet her properly."

"Please," Cain nodded, following his son towards the kitchen where the two women had retreated. The sound of giggling drifted through the door and Jeb pushed the door wide to find DG and Hannah kneeling on the floor with dustpans and brushes, both laughing uncontrollably. DG's previously immaculate clothing was sprinkled with the white powder and there were streaks of it in her black hair.

Cain let out a chuckle and tried not to stare at his son as Jeb grinned down at them. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't seen Jeb smile – as in a genuine, spontaneous smile – since he was a child. The hardened fighter Cain had come to know after being released from the suit had rarely had a reason to express mirth.

"Uh oh," DG said with a mischievous smirk. "Busted."

"Do I want to know?" Jeb asked, regarding his wife fondly, and Hannah shook her head. She held a hand out to Jeb, who obligingly gave her a hand up. DG got to her feet under her own steam and blew a wayward lock of hair out of her face as she dusted herself down.

"Father, this is Hannah," Jeb said with a trace of pride in his tone. "Hannah, this is Wyatt Cain."

The girl in question smiled nervously. "Hi. Sorry but it's not every day the father-in-law you thought was dead shows up on your doorstep."

Cain found himself warming to the girl. "It's all right, I wasn't expecting it either."

DG watched with approval as Cain put Hannah at ease.

"So… how did you two meet?" Cain asked, deciding that the beginning seemed like the sensible place to start.

_Oh, this ought to be good_, DG snickered to herself.

"I picked his pocket," Hannah replied without missing a beat.

Cain blinked. "Excuse me?"

"She picked my pocket," Jeb said firmly, shooting his father a warning look.

_That's right, boys and girls_, DG thought, trying not to laugh at the expression on her companion's face. _Tin Man Wyatt Cain has a thief for a daughter-in-law_.

"I wanted my things back so I tracked her down."

"Yeah, to Madame Orr's house," Hannah laughed and DG could see Cain mentally counting to ten. Madame Orr's brothel had been shut down repeatedly over the annuals according to the records of the Tin Men but always found a way to get back in business.

"She didn't work there if that's what you're thinking," Jeb informed them, reading his father's reaction accurately.

"Not in that capacity, anyway," Hannah chimed in helpfully. "Besides, I'm sort of retired these days."

"She helps out the Tin Men here and there instead," Jeb explained.

"Yeah, a safe here, a lock there," Hannah said airily but DG could see her shoulders tensing. The princess's gaze flicked to Cain, whose expression was unreadable.

Cain squashed down the urge to voice the thoughts running through his head.

_Adora would never forgive you_, he reminded himself.

The visit was fairly short after that. DG ended up stepping in as the conversation became more and more stilted, inviting Jeb and Hannah to dinner at the Palace as soon as could be arranged. Jeb agreed while his wife gave a half-hearted smile, avoiding her father-in-law's eyes.

"Here," Jeb said, pulling his father's gun out of a drawer and holding it out to him. "You'll be wanting this back."

Cain's eyes narrowed and then shifted towards Hannah, who had the grace to look abashed, and DG knew that the lawman had just figured out what the motivation behind the hug at the door had been.

Cain holstered the pistol, his face impassive, and hugged his boy again. Jeb stood at the door, watching them until the pair had gone around the bend and moved out of his line of sight. DG watched him out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge just how badly he was taking it.

"She's really a lot of fun once you get past the sticky fingers," the princess said sagely.

"My son married a criminal," Cain growled and DG suppressed a groan. She had suspected that the Tin Man would not be thrilled with that particular development.

"She's not an axe-murderer," the brunette argued. "Give her a chance. Jeb wouldn't have married her if she didn't have a few redeeming qualities. Come on, when was the last time you saw your son smile like that?"

Cain couldn't refute that point but she could still see the thunderclouds swirling around his head. She also had a hunch that she knew what the problem really was. Being in the Palace was one thing but emerging into the outside world, seeing the changes he had only heard about…

It was sinking in. Everything that had happened, everything he had missed. Where before he had simply been disoriented and running to catch up, now Cain was getting angry.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it**.

**Part Six**

The walk back to the Palace passed in absolute silence on Cain's part. Not one syllable passed his lips. He stalked through the streets, checking his longer strides only when DG was forced to jog to keep up with him.

They didn't bother using the tunnels to return. By then, hours had passed and it was inevitable that DG would have been missed. They strode in through the front gates, the guards swarming to them the moment DG was recognized.

"Identify yourself!" Jackman demanded, stepping in front of Cain.

The blond Tin Man slowly looked up from under the brim of his hat, his blue eyes ablaze. "Wyatt Cain."

Jackman didn't bat an eye. "Wyatt Cain's dead."

"No, he's not," DG interjected in a commanding tone. "Let him pass, Captain. That's an order."

The guard's gaze flicked to the princess and back to the man he had challenged, sizing him up. He had never met Wyatt Cain in person and only had a vague recollection of what the man looked like from the newspapers. But it was still common knowledge that the Tin Man had died in the Barren Lands four annuals past.

"Princess –"

"You have my word that this is Wyatt Cain, Captain," DG assured him. "I'm not in any danger, now stand down. I won't say it a third time."

Jackman gritted his teeth and obeyed, aware of the blond man's chilly gaze tracking his every move. DG immediately began making her way towards the main building, keeping her pace slow just long enough for Cain to reach her. Side by side, they entered the Palace atrium, escorted by a full complement of soldiers.

As if summoned by DG's will alone, Ambrose and Raw greeted them at the bottom of the grand staircase. The Viewer's concerned brown eyes were fixed solely on Cain, who radiated tension as if it were a tangible thing.

"That bad, huh?" Ambrose sighed and Cain shot him a look that should have killed him on the spot.

"DG, you really must stop taking off on a whim like this." The Queen's dulcet tones floated over the group as she descended gracefully, as ageless in appearance as ever. Cain looked up at her and she stopped, one hand coming to rest against her chest. "Mister Cain?"

"Your Majesty," he said stiffly, tipping his hat respectfully.

"Mother, I'll explain later," DG intervened hastily before Cain could be asked to tell his story yet again. "Yes, it's him. Yes, we checked. Yes, a meeting with every advisor in the damn realm is probably a good idea because he's getting sick of repeating himself."

The Queen blinked down at her daughter but didn't chide her for her bluntness. "Very well, my darling. I shall arrange it immediately."

"Let's go," DG huffed, steering the group upstairs while the Queen stared after them in muted shock. The brunette led the way with Ambrose and Raw flanking Cain protectively until they arrived in his quarters. The lawman shed his coat and hat, his entire stance combative.

"Tin Man sad," Raw said gently. "Angry. Don't know where you fit."

"Get out of my head, Raw," Cain growled warningly.

"Fit with Raw. Fit with Ambrose and DG," Raw continued reassuringly. "Glad to have friend back."

"One more word, Raw, and I swear…" Cain trailed off, leaving the threat unfinished as his fists clenched and unclenched by his sides.

"Let him talk," Ambrose said reprovingly, "since you won't. Do you get a kick out of locking your emotions up and throwing away the key? We're trying to help you here."

"Glitch, don't," DG whispered, shaking her head at the advisor. He and Cain had always riled up each other up in one way or another but they had never come to blows. With the Tin Man's head where it was, she thought he might actually try to knock Ambrose's block off. Not that he would have much luck since Ambrose would probably just pull out some of his fancy ninja moves but that wasn't the point.

The whole way back to the Palace, DG had been thinking the whole situation over – trying to walk a mile in Cain's shoes and she hadn't liked the view at all. To escape, injured and badly dehydrated, from a prison that had held her for two days and find the land scorched bare with her name written on a war memorial, all without a single friendly face in sight, would have rated a ten on DG's freak-out Richter scale.

Oh and by the way, it's been four annuals instead of two days and the world has moved on without you. Again. Have a nice life.

DG wanted to scream on his behalf.

For the first time since she had met him, Wyatt Cain looked completely lost. Even eight annuals in an iron suit had not been able to accomplish that. It had hurt him – hardened him – but he had known what was happening to him and had emerged as a man with a vendetta and nothing to lose. This was completely different.

"Wyatt –"

Cain heard her use his given name and wanted to punch something. The one and only time she had done that in the past, he had kissed her senseless. He didn't need the reminder.

DG knew she had erred the second she spoke. His shoulders went rigid and his blue eyes hardened. Raw let out a mournful sound, taking a step back from the Tin Man, and Cain's expression flickered. The anger seemed to drain out of him, taking all the fight with it. He sank into a chair and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and DG felt a pang as she realized she was witnessing another first – defeat.

"Cain protect friends many times," Raw spoke up again. "Friends protect Cain now."

"Is giving me half the story your way of protecting me?" Cain scoffed. "I could have used a little warning that my son married a crook."

"Nice to see your judgemental tendencies are still intact," Ambrose said sarcastically, folding his arms and shaking his head. "Forgive me for skipping over a few smaller issues while trying to cram four annuals worth of information into a few days."

Cain glowered at Ambrose. "Is there anything else you haven't told me that I should know?" he asked, sounding weary and DG found herself holding her breath, dread settling in the pit of her stomach.

Both Ambrose and Raw looked at DG, whose gaze dropped to the floor.

Cain frowned, the shadows in her cerulean eyes proving to be his undoing. "What is it?" The look on the princess's face made his heart sink like a stone. "Deeg?"

"Az…" DG breathed, tears shimmering like diamonds on her lashes. "She… she's dead."

_Oh Gods_. "DG…"

She shook her head and walked out, refusing to look anyone in the face as she did so.

"Was that one of your smaller issues?" Cain demanded of the two men as he got to his feet.

Ambrose met his gaze steadily, suddenly looking haggard. "No. It was too big."

Swearing under his breath, the Tin Man was out the door and pursuing DG through the corridors. He could hear the distant sound of her soft footfalls on the polished floor and realized she must have broken into a run the moment she was out the door. He followed the echoes towards the turret and made his way up the stairs.

He found DG staring out over the shining city, hugging herself as the wind ruffled her hair. He could still see traces of flour amongst the ebony strands and on her grey trousers. She stood as still as a statue, the only sign of life the small rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

Cain came to stand by her side, feeling like an unmitigated fool for unloading his anger onto her when she had clearly been carrying her own burden. Ignorance was no excuse.

"I'm sorry, kid," he murmured, watching her face.

"You didn't know," she replied quietly.

They fell into silence, gazing out at the horizon. The Palace turrets were some of the highest points in the City and not only was the capital laid out before them but the surrounding countryside as well. Cain's eyes searched out the point where the Black Tower had once been visible in the distance and found nothing.

"You tore it down?"

"Az couldn't stand the thought of leaving it there any more. The Resistance demolished it."

"DG, what happened?" He kept his voice low and even.

The brunette shivered and kept staring out into space, rubbing her hands over her arms despite the warmth of the morning sunshine that was making the entire city glow. Cain placed a hand on her shoulder and felt her fingers reach up to cover his, seeking solace in touch. For a moment, they just stood there in the stillness, both unsure of how to proceed. He felt her tremble and his grip tightened ever so slightly.

DG turned to him and all but tumbled into his embrace, burying her head against his chest. Cain's arms came around her at once, cradling her tenderly.

"There was so much blood," she finally whispered, her voice a mere thread of sound. "All over her room. The sheets were soaked with it."

Cain closed his eyes, easily picturing the scene in his mind. He held her just that little bit harder, wishing he could have protected her from witnessing that.

"It was the maid," DG continued hoarsely. "She was such a nice girl. Az really liked her."

"How long ago?" he murmured against her hair.

"Nine weeks," DG replied in a shaky tone, sniffling against his vest, "five days and… thirteen hours."

Cain clasped her tightly, offering what comfort he could and inwardly railing against the cruel twist of fate that had prevented him from being there to shield DG from the atrocity.

It was true that he had taken a while to reconcile himself to the reality that Azkadellia and the Witch were two separate entities. However, he had slowly come to respect the elder princess's genuine desire to heal the wounds that had been inflicted by the creature that had controlled her for so long. Cain had ended up taking charge of the protection for both sisters instead of just DG, unwilling to trust anyone he hadn't hand-picked to serve on their security detail.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't here," he said, the words coming from his soul. "I would have given anything to keep you safe. Both of you."

"I know," DG breathed without looking up and Cain stroked her silky hair slowly, soothingly. She knew he meant every word. Azkadellia had been precious to her and by virtue of that fact Cain had taken it upon himself to defend her elder sister as fiercely as he defended her.

Time ceased to have any meaning as they consoled each other, oblivious to the rest of the world. It was the subtle clearing of a throat finally made them break apart. They looked over to find Raw standing a few feet away, shyly waiting to be acknowledged.

"What is it, Raw?" DG asked, swiftly dashing the last traces of tears from her eyes as she tried to compose herself. Cain glanced up at the suns and was startled to realize how long they'd been up there alone.

"Queen says advisors ready," he told them with sympathetic brown eyes. "Waiting for Cain and DG."

"We'll be right there," Cain replied for both of them and received a grateful look from DG for the trouble. Raw nodded and went back the way he came, content that they would attend soon enough.

"God, I must be a mess," DG muttered, swiping at her cheeks.

"You look perfect," Cain corrected her, his lips quirking upwards at the corners. "Except for that bit of flour in your hair from this morning."

She smacked him on the arm in mock-anger and smoothed her hair back behind her ears, drawing herself up and squaring her shoulders. "All right, time to go throw ourselves to the lions."

The Tin Man waited for her to move ahead of him and steeled himself for what was to come. He had always hated the pomp and bureaucracy that came with living at the Palace. From this moment on, he had a sneaking suspicion that his life was about to spiral even further out of his control.

**ooOOOoo**

Cain's prediction proved true enough as Ambrose slapped a newspaper down in front of him at breakfast for the third morning in a row. The headline of the _Ozmapolitan_ read: "Hero In Hiding?"

"You've got to be kidding me," Cain muttered in exasperation, swallowing down the mouthful of toast he had been working on.

"It wouldn't kill you to give an interview, you know," Ambrose pointed out as he snatched a buttered slice off Cain's plate and bit into it. "They're not going to go away until you respond. Just pick a paper and give them an exclusive."

"What do you expect me to say, Zipperhead?" Cain sighed. "I issued a statement. Let them make something up if that's not interesting enough for them."

"You issued a statement that said absolutely nothing," Ambrose replied. "You said you'd been 'detained' after running afoul of the Ixian Magus. You didn't tell them where you were or what happened. They're reporters – they're curious by nature. A mystery like this is bound to make them crazy. The guards already caught a couple of photographers trying to scale the perimeter fence just before dawn."

Cain leaned back in his seat. "This is getting ridiculous."

"That's the nature of being a hero of the realm, I'm afraid, _Sir _Cain," Ambrose said wisely, smiling slightly when Cain winced at the mention of his new title. "Raw and I spent cycles ducking for cover after the Queen knighted us and Raw was shy enough to begin with."

"We don't even know what that gate is," Cain reminded his friend. "I don't want anyone getting stuck in there for some a damned newspaper article."

"Is that a subtle hint that we still aren't even a third of the way through those texts yet?" Ambrose asked shrewdly. "I never thought I'd say it but I'm sick of staring at books all day. I'm going cross-eyed."

"Are you sure it's not your wires that are getting crossed?" Cain asked wryly.

"I'll have you know that my noggin is in perfect working order," Ambrose answered archly, "but speaking of crossed wires, have you spoken to DG?"

"Not since she told me about Azkadellia," Cain admitted, shifting uncomfortably under the advisor's all-too-observant gaze. "No time."

Ambrose lifted a sceptical eyebrow. "You know, DG mentioned that Ethan wanted to meet you."

The prompt set Cain's teeth on edge. "I'll get to it."

"Right, because you'd need to squeeze him into your busy schedule," Ambrose said with a roll of his eyes. "Should I pencil him in between the _Aurexian Codex_ or the _Encyclopaedia of Enchantment_?"

Cain scowled at the former headcase, hating that he was right. For the better part of three days, after hours and hours of meetings and questions and disbelieving generals, he had retreated to the library with Ambrose and Tutor and spent the better part of three days consumed with his quest to find out what the hell the Ixian Magus had been after in the Baron Lands.

_Barren Lands_, he grudgingly amended, remembering their new moniker.

Ambrose wasn't the only one getting frustrated with their lack of progress. Studying had never been Cain's favourite pastime; not when he was at school and definitely not more than twenty annuals later.

Cain suspected that he wasn't the only one avoiding the inevitable. DG had made herself scarce as well and Raw had been hovering over her in between bouts of helping to scour the library. When asked, the Viewer would only say that the princess was 'trying not to be sad'.

Perhaps it was childish but after his time with DG on the turret, Cain really didn't want to meet Ethan. It had been bad enough sitting in that meeting and seeing the man beside DG, who had taken her place next to the Queen. Since he and DG had been the last to arrive, the debriefing had begun immediately with only cursory introductions being made to speed things along. The most he and the prince had exchanged was a respectful nod of the head.

Ethan seemed like a level-headed sort. Everything he had said had been sensible and Cain had not been able to fault it. Most of the royalty Cain had encountered in the annual since the Witch's downfall had been proud and liked to talk just for the pleasure of hearing themselves speak, so it was a pleasant change.

Trust DG to find the only decent one of the lot.

He really should have been proud of her. Hell, he _was_ proud of her. In spite of her own turmoil, she had handled the meeting with grace and confidence. Before he had left, she had still been struggling to learn the ropes – now it appeared that she had the reins well in hand.

While those thoughts were circling like vultures in Cain's head, Ambrose watched his friend with a tinge of sadness in his brown eyes. The man really had no idea how easy he was to read. Not that he walked around with his heart on his sleeve but his friends had learned to interpret his reactions or lack thereof fairly accurately. Four annuals had not changed that.

"Cain," he said carefully, "DG told us about the kiss."

The blond stopped chewing, his eyes snapping up to Ambrose's face as the tips of his ears turned pink. At that moment, one thing was coming across to the ex-headcase loud and clear – Cain was mortified. Ambrose regretted embarrassing the man in any way, shape or form but he needed to know that his friends weren't oblivious to the issue that was eating away at him as badly as his absence from Jeb's life. If something didn't change, Ambrose was worried that Raw might have an emotional breakdown on Cain and DG's behalf.

When Cain didn't say anything, Ambrose continued. "It was about a cycle after you disappeared. We'd done everything short of digging the place up to find you. It started to sink in that you really might not be coming back."

Cain swallowed the mouthful of toast and set the half-eaten slice down, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Do you have a point?" he asked gruffly.

"You're in love with her."

"That was four annuals ago, Glitch."

"Not for you," Ambrose replied logically. "Do you think any of us were surprised? We were all waiting for you to wake up and make a move."

"I shouldn't have done it, now drop it," Cain cautioned him, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.

"Nobody can just flip a switch and pretend something like that didn't happen," Ambrose told him wisely. "Not even you. Do you think the Queen loves Ahamo any less after being separated for fifteen annuals? Of course not."

"That's different."

"How so?"

"It just is."

"Now there's a sound argument. It's a good thing you weren't on the debate team at school, Cain."

Cain shot him a look that would have had a lesser man cowering beneath the breakfast table. Ambrose simply let it roll off his back and applied himself to finishing the toast he had purloined from his companion.

"So, have you decided what you're going to wear to the ball?" Ambrose asked, taking mercy on his comrade by changing the subject.

Cain groaned in vexation at the thought of the shindig the Queen had insisted on throwing to celebrate his return. To his chagrin, she had made the suggestion as the debriefing wound up, in front of the entire assembly, leaving him little choice but to acquiesce when the nobles latched onto the idea. Now just under over six hundred people were due to arrive the next evening – aristocrats, officials from all over the OZ, a few reporters and whomever else the Queen decided to put on the guest list.

"I've still got that dress uniform from before," Cain grunted. "That'll do."

"Yes, well, do try not to scare the nice people," Ambrose chuckled. "No growling. You're supposed to be a conquering hero, not a cranky old grouch. Now come on. We have some books to read."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**Part Seven**

"Cain, I think I've got something," Ambrose said, his voice laced with excitement. "I do! I've got something!"

The Tin Man and Tutor exchanged a long-suffering look. This was the third time in the last hour that Ambrose had thought he'd discovered something relevant to their search only to find that his translation was off or that he was actually staring at an entrance to the Nome King's legendary dominions.

"Ambrose, are you sure?" Cain asked.

"Positive," Ambrose replied, his whole face lighting up as he brought the book over to the two older men and placed it in front of them. "Wyatt Cain, I give you Horner's Gate – where time reputedly stands still."

Tutor circled the table to look over Cain's shoulder as he inspected the ancient text.

"I think he's right, Mister Cain," Tutor agreed.

"Well, for those of us who don't read the ancient language, how about an explanation?" Cain asked dryly.

"Horner's Gate is old magic," Ambrose obliged him. "As in pre-Ozma old. Possibly over a thousand annuals. This says it was believed to lie in the south under the protection of Glinda."

"There'd better be more than that, Zipperhead."

"There is," Ambrose replied merrily. "It's a vault."

Cain's brow furrowed. "A vault? You mean like a safe?"

"Precisely," Tutor nodded, mentally translating as he stared at the pictorial language. "A vault for magic."

"It says here that Horner's Gate was created by Glinda to guard the most powerful magical artefacts in the lands," Ambrose explained, "and stop them from falling into the wrong hands."

"Like an Ixian Magus?" Cain guessed, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.

"It says here that Ozma placed her magic belt there when her reign ended," Ambrose mused, his eyes roving over the paragraphs, "and the Grimmerie of Elphaba is there. The Golden Cap…"

"I didn't see any magic belts or books," Cain argued. "All I found was a tunnel that went on and on with no end in sight. No doors, no turns."

"Not that _you_ could see," Ambrose posited, "but Witches are different. You said the Magus used a spell to open the Gate. Maybe there were more doors like that inside – the whole place could have been a never-ending maze of combinations locks that you need certain spells to open."

"That still doesn't explain why time is different there," Cain pointed out.

"Actually it does," Tutor mused. "It would have given Glinda an enormous advantage if anyone ever breached the Gate."

"You said you were only in there for a day or two?" Ambrose seemed to mull this over. "If we assume you were inside for a full forty-eight hours, that's a ratio of about twelve hours to every minute that passes inside the Gate. Glinda would have had days to construct a counter-offensive before an intruder had even been in there for five minutes." The advisor paused, his brown eyes resting on Cain as the figures hung in the air, effectively killing the relieved mood that had been predominant only a moment before.

Cain rubbed his jaw, staring down at the tome as he turned the information over in his mind. Based on what Ambrose had just calculated, if he had been in there for a cycle, everyone he knew would have been dead by the time he emerged or elderly at the very least. The idea that it actually could have been worse – much, much worse – was both sobering and at the same time strangely reassuring.

"I wonder what that son of a bitch was after," Cain muttered, thinking back to the Magus.

"Everything, probably," Ambrose shrugged. "That place would have been a treasure trove. If he'd gotten hold of even two or three objects from that place, I don't think we'd be having this conversation. Magical wars are nasty."

"Glinda must have booby-trapped the Gate," Cain decided. "Going through it hurt like hell. It was enough to kill the Magus."

"I don't think that's it," Tutor frowned. "If that was the case, how did you survive the transition?"

"He was stuck in the Gate longer than I was," Cain offered. "I was holding him back."

"Being stuck between two times probably wasn't good for you," Ambrose said with a grimace. "No wonder you were in such bad shape by the time you got out of there."

"So you're saying I probably would have been fine if I hadn't fought it?" Cain surmised, thinking back to how his return trip hadn't been anywhere near as painful as the first. The Gate had practically spat him out.

"You've got it, Tin Man," Ambrose agreed, thrusting the book at him. "Now go and explain what we've found to the princess. She'll kill us if we keep her in the dark."

"I can't read this language," he objected lamely.

"You don't have to," Ambrose replied smoothly, not about to let Cain argue his way out of seeing DG. "Just repeat everything we told you. Can't go wrong. Shoo!"

Shaking his head at Ambrose's dismissal, Cain got to his feet and tucked the volume under his arm. He closed the door behind him, pondering the newest piece of the puzzle. It slotted in with the other bits of information they already had, completing a picture that had previously been confusing as hell to look at. It didn't make him feel any better about his predicament. It didn't change anything but at least it was a logical, if rather fantastical, explanation for the whole mess.

**ooOOOoo**

DG stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying to banish the butterflies that had decided to make camp in the vicinity of her stomach. Behind her, the seamstresses were working industriously, pinning and tacking pieces into place, making final adjustments.

It was taking all her self-control to stand still. Part of her wanted to sink into the floor and another part wanted to find Cain and kiss him in a manner she had been denied for far too long. She still remembered what she had said to him before he left: '_We're going to finish this when I see you again.'_

Had she known it would be four annuals before she laid eyes on him again, DG would have done more than just kiss him. She would have tied him down so he couldn't leave.

How could he be so close and yet so far away?

Well, the answer to that one was easy. She was engaged and Wyatt Cain, good man that he was, would never stand in the way of that, no matter how badly she wanted him to.

Sometimes DG couldn't be sure that she hadn't imagined the whole thing: the kiss, the way he looked at her. It could have been a daydream – a comforting fantasy conjured up by the heart of an infatuated girl. Yet her lips had tingled after he left the room. If she cast her mind back, she could still feel Cain's mouth on hers, warm and passionate and so real. She had gone to bed that night torn between worrying for him and anticipating seeing him again.

Then he had vanished and something inside her had vanished with him. She had felt it start to die when she found his scorched coat on the battlefield and his hat among a mound of charred bodies. None of them had been him and she had wished that he would appear, safe and sound, and tell her everything was okay. That hope had begun to erode, slowly but surely, as days turned into weeks and there was still no sign of him.

Raw couldn't sense him. Her magic couldn't find him, even with Azkadellia's help. The terrible weight that seemed to be sitting on her chest had intensified until she had finally broken down. DG would never have suspected that it would hurt so much to lose something she had never really had in the first place. She sometimes questioned which was worse – to wonder what if or know exactly what she would never have again?

If Ambrose and Raw hadn't told him about Ethan, would their reunion have been different? Would it have played out like one of the flights of fancy that had kept her warm at night or would he have backed off just the same?

_What am I going to do?_

Ethan was a good man and a good friend. He was kind and smart and had a sense of humour that she could appreciate. She had been the one to suggest the match and in doing so had made a binding agreement with the Fliaanese, having cast aside all expectations of a marriage based on love. If Wyatt hadn't come back, she knew she would have lived a comfortable existence with Ethan.

_If, if, if… God, I hate that word_.

A knock at the door startled DG out of her reverie. "Come in," she called out and tried to ignore the way her heart leapt when Cain walked into her chambers with a book under his arm. He spotted her and stopped, staring at the gown with a look in his eyes that DG's starved senses immediately lapped up.

"Ladies, can you give us a minute?" she asked, glancing down at the seamstresses, who immediately bustled out of the room. DG stepped down off the small portable platform the women had brought with them and faced him, feeling a bit ridiculous standing there in a half-finished ball gown with bare feet and hair that had been haphazardly pinned up to keep it out of the way.

Cain's gaze roamed over her slowly, drinking in the picture she presented. The dress was going to be stunning when it was finished. The soft champagne colour made her eyes look bluer and her hair blacker than ever in comparison. DG flushed under his scrutiny, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink.

"Did you… do you need me for something?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound as nervous as she felt. The way he was watching her was doing strange things to her insides.

"We think we know what happened," he said, holding up the book. "Ambrose found it."

DG's eyes widened and she hiked up the skirt, tip-toeing around the dressmaking supplies spread out on the floor to reach him. She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards a pair of antique chairs – the kind that Cain always thought would break if he tried to sit in them. DG plonked herself down and hissed, springing back onto her feet as if she had been scalded. She twisted around to withdraw a pin that had stuck into her skin and rubbed the injured spot, ignoring the amused tilt of Cain's lips.

"Okay, I'm good," she decided and sat down much more gingerly the second time around, patting the chair beside her. "Tell me everything."

"It's called Horner's Gate," he began and did his best to explain everything he, Ambrose and Tutor had discussed in the library. DG asked questions at first but quickly lapsed into silence, taking on a far away look as she listened. By the time he finished, he wasn't even sure she was still hearing him. "Hey, you still with me, kid?"

DG blinked and he thought he caught a hint of moisture in her eyes. "What if you'd never found a way out?" She pursed her lips. "Or what if you came back and we were all dead?"

"I did and you're not," Cain replied firmly, snapping the book shut and setting it aside. "Besides, in the scheme of things, I feel better knowing the Magus is rotting in that place instead of running around the whole continent with an arsenal of magical artefacts that Glinda herself considered too dangerous to leave out in the open."

"I wish I could undo it for you," she said softly.

"Nobody has that much power, darlin'," he sighed.

"Still…" she breathed. "We left you there."

"You looked me for me. You did your best. I can't ask more than that."

"Then why do I still feel like I failed?" she asked tremulously. "Tutor keeps telling me I'm powerful, that I can do anything if I set my mind to it. Why wasn't I strong enough to find you?"

"You'll drive yourself crazy with that kind of talk, DG," he said, his heart aching to take away the pain he could see in those incredible eyes of hers. "I got out and I'm all right. Better late than never, I suppose."

"Do you mean that?" she wondered out loud and Cain suddenly had the feeling that they weren't talking about the Gate any more. It was on the tip of his tongue to say yes but he clamped his mouth shut on the impulse.

"I should go," he said at last and watched her face fall as she looked away from him. He stood up and reclaimed the book, running his fingers over the spine. "I'll see you later, princess."

"Right…" she murmured as he left the room. She heard the tell-tale click of the door closing and let her eyes drift closed, her shoulders sagging under the weight of heartache. "Later."

Several minutes passed and she heard the seamstresses re-enter her apartments. Grateful that she had been given some time to pull herself together, DG forced a welcoming smile and retook her position on the small dais so that the hem of her dress swung several inches above the floor.

One of the women looked up at DG a couple of times, as if she wanted to say something but wasn't sure if it would be acceptable to do so.

"What is it, Elsa?" DG prompted her kindly.

"Begging your pardon, Your Highness, but… are you all right?"

_Oh God, I must look like a wreck_, DG realized miserably. "I'm fine," she lied, dragging in a deep, steadying breath. She held out the pin she had accidentally sat on before. "It just stings a bit is all."

_And isn't that the understatement of the millennium?_

Elsa reclaimed the pin with a horrified apology and DG immediately felt bad for letting the woman think anything was her fault. She assured the two dressmakers that there had been no harm done and the pair quickly got back to work.

DG took a moment to wish the well-meaning Witch of the South into some kind of special magical hell for creating Horner's Gate before stopping to wonder if that might be the OZian version of blasphemy.

**ooOOOoo**

Cain felt like shooting something.

It was torture, plain and simple. Every instinct had been screaming at him to kiss DG's tears away, to hold her tightly and chase away the demons that shadowed those vibrant eyes. She had been sitting there, telling him she felt like it was her fault that he had lost four annuals of his life, and he hadn't so much as touched her. Oh, he had wanted to – so badly he could taste it, in fact.

How could it seem like only yesterday that she had been his and yet feel like that moment had been a lifetime ago? It made no sense.

Cain felt like he was watching the world pass by without contributing to it; as if he were merely an observer while the actors bustled across the stage, playing their parts. Once again, he found himself trapped in limbo, the ghosts of the past unfolding before his eyes. It was a maddening sensation, one he thought he had left behind forever when DG released him from the suit.

"Cain okay?" Raw asked, approaching slowly.

The Tin Man gritted his teeth. That had to be the stupidest question in existence. Did he look or – more importantly in Raw's case – _feel_ okay? The answer was an emphatic no, so why bother asking?

"Heart full of DG," Raw said gently.

"This is not a good time to be snooping around inside my heart, furball," Cain said curtly.

"Cain not being punished," the Viewer pressed on regardless. "Do nothing wrong by loving DG. Wife would want husband to be happy. Loved Adora with whole heart. Not love DG better – only different."

Cain's lungs felt like they were constricting. How had Raw found that secret fear? It had crossed his mind perhaps once and he had buried it as deeply as he could afterwards, knowing intellectually that Adora would never begrudge him a second chance. All the same… he had learned that things usually happened for a reason since meeting DG and the doubt had crept in. Was it possible that he had been taken away from DG at that crucial point because it wasn't meant to be? He normally didn't believe in that kind of thing but…

Wasn't this the way DG's life had been supposed to unfold? If the Witch had never escaped, she would have grown up with all the privileges due to a princess of the realm - learning to use her magic as she grew, eventually being courted by men of noble blood. She never would have heard of Wyatt Cain and would most likely have ended up marrying the Fliaanese prince anyway.

"Cain not believe that. Not really," Raw interjected, sensing the gloomy direction of the Tin Man's thoughts.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" Cain muttered in frustration, looking Raw squarely in the eyes.

"Follow heart," Raw suggested. "Will always lead you home."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**Part Eight**

The suns were sinking behind the horizon when the guests began arriving, the cavalcade of cars progressing steadily towards the Central City Palace. Men in suits and women in beautiful gowns began strolling the paths that led to the entrance, which had the doors thrown wide in welcome.

Cain couldn't stand all the pomp and ceremony. He had flat-out refused to be announced and chosen instead to enter the ballroom with Glitch and Raw when he was damn well good and ready, greeting the people who approached him with as much patience and courtesy as he could muster. His decision had not gone over well with the Queen, whose countering argument had consisted of the words: "That is simply not the way these things are done, Mister Cain."

Suffice it to say, Cain got his own way with a little diplomatic help from Ahamo. He had moved through the crowd rather easily for a few minutes before the guests caught on to the fact that the man of the hour had arrived unnoticed. If it hadn't been for the steadying presence of Ambrose, Cain might have snapped there and then. He liked having space around him – the crush of the overfull ballroom made him feel claustrophobic.

"Father."

Cain turned immediately at the sound of his son's voice, relieved that Ambrose had made sure that Jeb's name was at the top of the guest list. The young resistance leader looked completely different in his formal wear. It really hit Cain at that moment just how grown up his son was.

"Jeb," he smiled in greeting, shaking his son's hand and pulling him into a quick hug. "I'm glad you came."

"Where's Hannah?" Ambrose inquired politely.

"She's entertaining herself," Jeb replied and Cain couldn't help wondering if someone ought to be keeping an eye on the silver. As if Jeb had read his mind, the younger Cain looked his father in the eye. "She needed some air. It's a bit crowded in here."

Cain inwardly winced, well aware that while Jeb was glad to have his father back, he was less than impressed with the Tin Man's reaction to his self-confessed thief of a wife. He really could have done without knowing that tidbit of information until much, much later. Like in a decade or two, when he might have been able to laugh it off. Old habits died hard.

"She'll have to save me a dance later," Ambrose grinned, lightening the mood considerably. "I'm thinking a cha-cha… or maybe a polka?"

"She's five cycles pregnant, Ambrose," Cain reminded him.

"So? Five cycles isn't nine. It's not like she's going to pop right here on the dance floor," Ambrose retorted, making Jeb chuckle. "Come on, where's your sense of fun?"

"I must have left it in my other pants," Cain deadpanned.

"Yes," Ambrose nodded sagely. "Those pants are quite popular."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh! Canapés!" Ambrose exclaimed delightedly as a waiter paused beside him and Jeb started laughing in earnest at the look on his father's face. Cain silently swore to quiz the ex-headcase on that comment later.

When the butler began broadcasting the arrival of the royal family in a clear, carrying voice, the whole crowd hushed in anticipation. This was the first official public function the House of Gale had attended, let alone arranged, since the death of the Princess Azkadellia.

Ahamo and the Queen appeared first. Thankfully Ahamo had gotten rid of the long hair and awful sideburns in the annuals Cain had been absent and he looked every inch the Consort as he and his wife made their way down the grand staircase. The Queen was her usual poised self, regal in her bearing, addressing those who surrounded her calmly.

"Her Royal Highness, the Crown Princess Dorothy of the House of Gale and His Royal Highness, the Prince Ethan of the House of Astaran," the butler's voice rang out and Cain stopped breathing as the pair glided into view.

The Tin Man watched them descend into the ballroom, arm in arm, and cursed himself for a jealous, petty fool.

They looked perfect together.

They had dressed to complement each other, with the fabric of Ethan's waistcoat matching the colour of DG's gown flawlessly. The sleeves of the muted-gold dress left her shoulders bare to show off the necklace that rested over her collarbone, the companion-piece to the diamond-encrusted tiara that sat atop her upswept ebony locks. She looked exquisite – every inch the daughter of royalty.

DG and Ethan were smiling courteously as the throng moved aside to let them mingle, exchanging pleasantries with those around them. Cain snatched a glass of champagne from a passing server and swallowed a mouthful. Jeb's sharp brown eyes watched the motion, leaping from his father to the princess and her escort and back again.

Cain deliberately went back to conversing with those who approached him to offer their thoughts on his return and interrogate him about details that were still sketchy at best as far as the general public was concerned. He tried to ignore the constant awareness that DG was in the same room, shining like the sun in her gown and jewels.

"Wyatt."

He gritted his teeth when he inevitably heard her address him, her hand touching him on the arm to get his attention. He couldn't pretend he hadn't heard her. He swung around to face her and found not only DG but her betrothed standing before him.

"Ethan Astaran," the prince introduced himself, holding out a hand for Cain to shake, which the lawman accepted. DG wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

"Your Highness," Cain greeted him politely, studying the younger man.

"I've heard a lot about you, Sir Cain," Ethan proclaimed, his moss green eyes flicking towards DG, and Cain had the uncomfortable feeling that the prince was picking up on more than his princess might have been giving him credit for.

"Drop the 'sir'," Cain advised him. "I won't answer to it."

"Very well," he agreed. "Then I must insist that you call me Ethan. It only seems fair."

Just once, Cain wished he could find fault with the man DG had chosen to share her life with. It would have been so much easier if he could justify hating him.

"Ethan's been waiting for a chance to meet you," DG spoke up, feeling terribly awkward until a photographer let off a flashbulb in their faces, blinding the trio. She blinked rapidly to try to clear her vision of floating spots. "Okay, I'm banning those things in future," she decided with a frown.

"They'd just find a way to smuggle them in anyhow," Cain replied, glancing around.

"DG told me how you and your friends helped to defeat the Witch," Ethan said, picking up the thread of conversation again. "It's an amazing tale. That kind of bravery is a rare thing in this day and age."

"We were just doing what needed to be done," Cain said with a shake of his head, his blue eyes resting on DG. His lips tugged upwards momentarily. "Couldn't very well leave her walking around taking directions from Glitch."

DG grinned at the memory. "Hey, we would have found it eventually."

"I second that," Ambrose chimed in, rejoining the Tin Man after raiding the buffet table with Raw by his side. "I'm not saying it wouldn't have been a very curly way of getting there – a few zig-zags, maybe a figure eight or two – but I'm sure we would have stumbled across the Brick Route sooner or later."

"Rhythm not help with bad sense of direction," Raw said doubtfully, making DG laugh. "Or Papay."

"I could have taken those Runners," Ambrose replied with a haughty sniff that was offset by the playful sparkle in his brown eyes. "A kick here, a strike there. Voila, Papay soup!"

Cain had never been so grateful to the headcase for his sense of comedic timing. Ambrose kept them all entertained, banishing the palpable tension that had been coiling in the group. Cain made a mental note to thank him later. The constant knot in the pit of his stomach was bad enough without the other guests noticing that something was off.

When the musicians struck up, Ahamo and the Queen moved towards the dance floor as the guests stepped aside to make room. DG's gaze rested on Cain for a long moment, knowing that as the princess it was one of her duties to lead the dance with her parents but that her betrothed would be expected to partner her.

"As the guest of honour, I believe the first dance should be yours," Ethan decided with a nod to Cain and he graciously stepped aside.

"That's really not necessary," Cain objected.

Ethan's green eyes met Cain's blue ones and once again the older man saw a knowing glint in the prince's eyes that left him discomfited. "I insist."

Left with no choice as DG could hardly dance partnerless, Cain offered his elbow to the brunette and tried to ignore the frisson of electricity that tingled between them as her arm threaded through his. A murmur rippled through the crowd when the man they were celebrating instead of her fiancé guided the Crown Princess onto the floor. The two began to revolve on the spot.

DG tried to keep her expression appropriately calm but it was a struggle. This was the closest she had been to him since he had comforted her on the turret. He had kept his distance ever since in both the physical and emotional sense. The hand pressed against the small of her back felt like it was burning through her gown.

"You've been avoiding me," DG said in a low voice when it became obvious he wasn't going to initiate a dialogue of any kind.

"I'm right here," he replied evenly.

"No, you're not," she whispered, her fingers tightening on his shoulder. "Will you at least look at me?"

Other couples were beginning to glide onto the floor, lifting the burden of being the centre of attention from their shoulders. The eyes that had been steadfastly aimed over her head slowly dropped to DG's face and she read the same torment in them that she had been feeling ever since she'd reached out to touch him the first night he arrived.

So close and yet so far…

"Have you wondered what would have happened if it hadn't been for the Gate?" she asked quietly, holding Cain's gaze. She felt him tense, the muscle in his jaw working as her question hit home.

He had thought of nothing else. The desire to get back to her had kept him going inside that cave. Cain had imagined finishing what they had started with that one impulsive kiss, envisaged her in his bed. And every single one of those pipe dreams, entombed for so long in the darkest recesses of his mind and heart, had come crashing down around him upon his return.

"No," he said flatly and saw her blue eyes flash.

"You're lying," she challenged him. "I can always tell."

Cain knew he was on dangerous ground. He wanted to shake her until she came to her senses. It had been a foolish hope to begin with, to think that love might have been enough. The world always decided their fates in the end and no amount of fighting against the tide would change what had happened. DG had responsibilities she couldn't ignore; ones that he couldn't _let_ her ignore. There were some lines Wyatt Cain would never cross, not even for DG, and having an affair with an attached woman was one of them. He had always thought she was above it as well but the way she was talking had shaken his confidence.

Why couldn't she leave it be?

"If it weren't for Ethan… would you be with me?"

The question threw him so badly he stopped in the middle of the dance floor, staring down at the cerulean eyes that pleaded with him to tell her the truth. Another couple bumped into them and he realized that people had noticed their pause. Clearing his throat, Cain began leading DG in a slow spin again.

"Answer me," DG hissed with an edge of desperation. She had no doubt that he loved her. She could see that in his face, in his stubborn refusal to discuss it, but she still wanted to hear it from him. She felt like she was drowning and he was standing on the shore, ignoring her cries.

"It doesn't matter, kid," he said finally, his back ramrod straight. "I'm sorry."

"Like hell it doesn't matter," DG growled as the song came to a close and Cain let his arms fall away from her. The next thing she knew Ethan was at her side, requesting her hand for the next dance and Cain took the opportunity to tell the prince that she would be delighted and walk away.

DG found herself searching out the familiar blond head over and over as Ethan expertly guided her through the steps of a flowing waltz. The only sign that Ethan gave of noticing her distraction was a quiet reminder here or there of what direction they were supposed to move in next, a concession she was grateful for or she would have undoubtedly been tripping over her own feet. She saw Cain heading towards the terrace, which was largely unoccupied due to the chilly wind, and chewed on her lower lip.

The moment the dance was over, DG made her apologies to her partner and began weaving her way through the throng in the direction that Cain had taken. Ethan watched her go with a speculative gleam in his eyes before asking a countess for the honour of a foxtrot.

DG slipped outside and shut the wide glass doors behind her, seeing no-one in the immediate vicinity. She thought she would have to descend into the circular gardens that grew in the heart of the Palace but as she took a few steps into the darkness she found him standing just outside the illumination thrown by the lamps.

As always, he knew it was her without looking.

"Was that the Fliaanese waltz I just saw?" Cain asked in as neutral a tone as he could manage. He remembered watching her train with Glitch for hours, trying to get the various dances right with only limited success.

"Ethan taught me," she murmured as she approached. "The waltz is a tradition at weddings in his country."

"Must have taken a lot of practice," he replied, resentment rolling over him at the thought of Ethan having DG in his arms for the length of time it had likely taken to perfect the steps. "You two look good together."

"Wyatt, please don't start that again," she implored him.

"It's the truth."

"I didn't come out here to talk about Ethan."

"Then why did you come out here?" Cain asked. "It's much warmer inside."

The vulnerability Cain saw in her eyes made every protective instinct he had rise up with a fervent desire to shield her from anything that might harm her. At the same time, his sense of self-preservation was urging him to say something – anything – to forestall what he knew was coming next.

DG glanced back at the mob in the ballroom and stepped to the side so that she wasn't easily visible to anyone inside. Cain had no choice but to move with her unless he wanted to speak loudly enough to be overheard by unwelcome ears. Darkness, broken only by the moonlight, engulfed them.

DG turned and pressed her lips to his, the silken allure of her mouth bringing back bittersweet memories. For a moment he was back in his room, holding a younger princess in his arms, and it took a few seconds for reality to roll over him. He gripped her by the shoulders and set her back on her heels, staring down at a pair of heartsick blue eyes and lips that begged him to return to them.

"Don't do that," he rumbled.

"Don't what?" she asked wretchedly. "Don't kiss you? Or don't love you?"

"Both," he snapped, anger surging to the fore. Anger at her, at Ethan, even at Glinda for creating the fucking Gate in the first place. Anger at himself for kissing her four annuals ago – far less by his count - when he should have left well enough alone. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"I want to finish what we started," she shot back, the loneliness she had endured reflected in her eyes. "I want you to look at me like you did before you left."

"I can't do that," he bit out.

"Why not?" DG demanded brokenly, the questions spilling out of her before she could censor them. "Did you wish for this? When you went south to the Barrens, were you just waiting for a chance to take it back? If you were, just tell me."

Her words hung between them, striking at his heart. He couldn't tell her that… but the truth would only make it worse.

"Go back to your prince, DG," he told her sternly and stepped away, turning his back on her to gaze out over the gardens instead. He knew that if he kept looking at her, he would say or do something he shouldn't.

DG stared at his back, unable to believe he was dismissing her when she had just laid her heart at his feet. She wanted to scream at him but she felt like she couldn't breathe. Tears burned behind her eyes, blurring her vision, but she blinked them back. She couldn't lose it, not in the middle of a ball.

Cain didn't let out the breath he'd been holding until he heard the rustle of fabric as DG withdrew, leaving him with only the night air and the stars he had once compared her to for company. He could still feel the lush warmth of her lips on his, still taste her on his tongue.

He looked up and inhaled slowly, fighting to get himself under control as he became aware that he wasn't as alone as he had believed. "How much did you hear?" _And see?_

"Enough," Hannah confessed as she stepped out of the shadows of the garden and into the circle of light. "Sorry."

Cain turned to face her, his temper rattling its cage. "Is eavesdropping another one of your talents?"

"Hey, I was out here minding my own business when you and DG came along," Hannah replied tartly, folding her arms across her chest.

Cain gazed past her to the spot where she had been sitting, out of sight of the revellers, and realized she had well and truly made camp. A plate laden with food from the buffet sat on rim of the fountain with a champagne flute full of _kala_ juice beside it.

He gave her a questioning look and she blushed a little.

"I hate these things," Hannah admitted, glancing over her shoulder towards the crowded ballroom. "I don't like it when snobs travel in packs."

Cain knew that feeling. Aristocrats seemed to have a special skill for putting down those they considered socially inferior. While he had never really let it bother him, not everyone was so thick-skinned.

"Does Jeb know you're out here by yourself?" Cain asked, a bit put off by the idea that his son was leaving his pregnant wife on her own, regardless of his own doubts about the veracity of her character.

Hannah nodded complacently. "I told him to go back inside. He knows a lot of people in there. I'll find him later."

The Tin Man relaxed slowly. "Ambrose asked you to save him a dance."

She rolled her eyes and stared down at her rounded stomach. "Well, that should be interesting. If he thinks he's flinging me around like he did the last time, his brain must need a tune up."

Cain smirked a little at the idea of someone chasing Ambrose with a wrench and settled himself on the edge of the balustrade, taking a moment to really look at the woman his son had married. She was a pretty thing with her ivory skin and strawberry blonde locks, dressed in a demure gown of a light leafy green. Though at the house she had been rather bubbly and straightforward, here she seemed restrained and uneasy. She was out of her element and it showed. The girl was hiding out, for Ozma's sake.

She regarded him quietly in return and he knew he was being studied in an identical manner.

"Gods, stop looking at me like I'm some lost puppy," she finally huffed. "I'm the crook here, remember? I can take care of myself. Growing up on Sin Street has its advantages."

_The black alleys_, Cain realized. Crime was a way of life down there, whether it was robbery, prostitution, drugs or any number of other unsavoury professions. The Tin Men had waged a constant war against the corruption in that part of the city to no avail over the annuals. He had known she had ties to the area after mentioning Madame Orr's house but he hadn't realized she had been raised there. In retrospect, it really shouldn't have surprised him.

"Rough neighbourhood," he observed.

"Maybe for you," she replied lightly, scuffing her slipper against the gravel. "So… you and DG, huh? I never heard that part of the story."

Cain shook his head grimly. "There was nothing to tell."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**Part Nine**

Ethan saw DG hurriedly working her way through the crowd, her eyes downcast, her shoulders stiff with tension, and immediately excused himself from the small group of city officials he had been speaking to. He kept track of the tiara he knew she abhorred and found her on one of the smaller balconies.

"Are you all right?" he asked, making her jump.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," she said sharply and instantly regretted it. Thankfully, Ethan didn't seem the least bit bothered by her fit of pique. "I'm fine."

He lounged against the wall and folded his arms across his chest.

"You know, DG, one of the things I've always liked about you is that you don't generally treat people as if they're stupid or unobservant," he told her and DG was fairly certain that her heart stopped for a moment. She rotated slowly, her eyes enormous, and gulped. "Have you ever heard yourself talk about Wyatt Cain?" he continued, watching the play of emotions across her face. "It's really something."

"It is?" she breathed.

"It is," he nodded thoughtfully. "You have this expression on your face, like you're in the middle of one of those dreams no-one ever wants to wake up from. It's very becoming, actually."

DG felt a blush creep up over her neck to her cheeks.

Ethan smiled wryly. "Don't be embarrassed. It's a good look for you."

"Am I that obvious?" she asked in growing mortification.

"I'm surprised you didn't get whiplash trying to keep an eye on him while we were dancing," Ethan teased her and DG groaned, letting her head fall into her hands.

"God, Ethan, I'm so sorry…"

He waved off her apologies. "It's all right. I can't be angry with you for being human. I can, however, be annoyed with you for not saying anything."

"Do you have a handbook on what to tell your fiancé when your sort-of-ex comes back from the dead and relations between two countries could be permanently damaged by screwing things up?" DG shot back incredulously. "If you do, I'd love to read it."

"Sadly no," Ethan conceded, "but while we're on the subject, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," DG confessed despairingly. "I don't know if he and I would work. He was gone before we even got off the ground but…"

"But you love him," Ethan finished for her and DG nodded vigorously. He sighed and took her hand in his. "Look… I always knew that my marriage would be political. The most I ever hoped for was that I would end up with someone I got on reasonably well with. I never had any grand expectations."

DG pursed her lips, knowing that she had shared that sentiment after Cain had 'died'.

"If you really mean what you say, it's hardly fair for me to insist that you marry me," he told her and she scarcely remembered to breathe as his full meaning sank in, "so I release you from our engagement."

"Just like that?" she asked, part of her stunned that it could be that easy.

"Were you expecting hysterics?" Ethan replied blandly, looking rather amused. "I've had a few days to consider the situation."

"Could you maybe pretend to be a tiny bit upset?" DG laughed a little through her shock. "You're hurting my ego here."

"You can't have it both ways, DG," Ethan chuckled, "but just remember that if that Lolian kalidah tries to sink her teeth into me, it's on your head."

"Deal," DG replied solemnly, grimacing at the memory of the grand duchess who'd had Ethan firmly in her sights before they'd come to their arrangement. She surged forward and enfolded him in a rib-cracking hug. "Thank you."

"Go on," he told her, gesturing towards the ballroom. "You'd better find him. I'll handle the rest."

DG flashed him a brilliant smile and then she was gone, searching for the platinum blonde hair that had always been a dead giveaway. When a few minutes of exploring yielded no results, she targeted Ambrose and Raw instead. They were fairly easy to identify. Ambrose was on the dance floor with Hannah and therefore unavailable but Raw was talking to her father. She pushed her way towards the pair.

"Dad, Raw, have you seen Wyatt?"

"Cain leave," Raw replied. "Went back to room."

"Is everything all right, DG?" Ahamo asked, taking note of her flushed cheeks.

"I hope so," she replied quickly, hiking up the skirt of her gown. "Tell Mother I'm sorry for running out but there's something I have to do. Ethan will explain."

She rushed away and the two men turned their questioning gazes to the approaching prince.

"DG happy," Raw observed as Ethan joined them. "Very happy."

"Good," the prince replied with satisfaction.

DG left the ball without further ado, her high heels crunching on the gravel as she took a shortcut through the gardens towards the living quarters. She ended up kicking them off halfway, mindful only of the fact that they were slowing her down. She flew down the corridors as if she had wings.

**ooOOOoo**

Cain removed the cufflinks from his shirt and set them down on the dresser, his mind spinning circles around one subject: DG. The ghosts of her kisses were haunting him. When she had pressed her lips to his on the terrace, it had taken every ounce of willpower he had to stop before he lost himself in her taste.

It had broken something inside him to hear her ask if he had wished that he could take back what they'd shared before he left for the Baron Lands. He could never truly want that and no matter how large the distance between them grew, he didn't want her to believe it either. Those moments, fleeting as they were, were precious to him.

Yet there was no middle ground here. He couldn't, in good conscience, tell her any of that when her destiny didn't lie with him. It wouldn't be fair to her… or to Ethan, whom Cain had privately admitted was the good man DG had described. The whole situation was bigger than his feelings for one reckless princess.

All the same, he couldn't get the look on her face out of his mind… the hitch in her voice.

_Don't what? Don't kiss you? Or don't love you?_

He shed the remainder of his clothes, changing into a pair of loose cotton pants, and slid into the familiar bed. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling, exhaling slowly as he tried to calm his mind and heart to the point where sleep might become a possibility.

The soft sound of the door opening had him reaching automatically for his gun, bolting upright in the bed only to find DG watching him with large blue eyes. She locked the door as he lowered the weapon, appalled that he could have shot her.

"DG, what the hell are you doing here?" he bit out as she advanced towards him, the moonlight shining in the windows making her pale skin and gown gleam like liquid silver. DG let her eyes wander over the chest that was currently bared and took a deep breath.

"You didn't answer my question earlier," she replied smoothly. "About whether you'd be with me if it weren't for Ethan."

"DG –"

"No, Cain, I'm not leaving until you answer me," she said stubbornly. "And I mean a _real_ answer, not another deflection. I don't care if I have to stand here until we both turn to dust. You're going to tell me the truth and you're going to look me in the eyes when you do. I'll know if you're lying."

"You shouldn't be in here," he said warningly.

DG folded her arms. "Try again."

Cain glowered at her, knowing he was in trouble if she was serious. Once DG made up her mind, he had a greenskin's chance in the ocean of denying her. She really would stand there until she was forcibly removed… and he would have to be the one to do it. None of the staff would dare if she didn't want to go.

"This isn't a game," he began.

"Strike two," DG informed him, watching him expectantly. Throwing back the covers, Cain stalked forward and gripped her by the arm, intent on dragging her out if need be. DG dug in her heels. "Answer me or I stand outside your door and yell my question instead."

_Gods damn her! _Cain swore. He knew it wasn't an idle threat. She was backing him into a corner.

DG watched his face as he struggled. She knew it was cruel to make him say it like this but she needed to know that he wanted her in spite of everything, not that he would accept her afterwards because he felt responsible. Her heart was in her throat as she waited. _Please_, she beseeched him, _please just say it_.

The scent of her wafted over him, the warmth of the skin under his hand making his fingers tingle. The words she wanted to hear rose up, begging to be released. His head warred with his heart, shouting that it was wrong and he had no right to say any such thing.

"Yes."

His answer was so soft that she wasn't sure he had spoken at first. Elation mixed with sheer relief turned her legs to rubber and she thought they might not have supported her if not for his hold on her arm.

"It doesn't change anything," he persisted haltingly, not daring to look at her.

"Actually, it does," she replied, smiling to herself.

"Ethan –"

"Knows that I'm in love with you," DG interceded as she reached up and cupped his jaw in her palm, forcing him to look at her. "He called off the engagement."

Cain stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, what she had just said ringing in his ears like thunder. DG beamed up at him, watching the hope ignite in the ice blue depths of his eyes.

"I'm all yours, Tin Man," she told him quietly, gazing lovingly into the face that had featured in countless dreams over the last four annuals. "I always was."

Cain released her arm and touched the tips of his fingers to her lips, gently tracing the shape. DG slipped her hand around his wrist, her heart hammering.

"Say something," she whispered, half afraid that he would baulk after all, that she would wake up in her bed all alone and find that he hadn't uttered that one marvellous syllable. She could hear the clock ticking in the background and traces of musical beats in the distance, counting off the seconds as the silence stretched on. "Cain –"

His mouth swooped down on hers, robbing her of breath so that she could breathe him in instead. His arms wrapped around her, almost lifting her off her feet, and she suddenly felt as if she were soaring. His lips caressed hers, one hand sliding up to tangle in hair already mussed from running, upsetting the heavy tiara that still rested there. It slid forward and smacked him on the forehead.

"Ow," he grumbled, rubbing the skin that had been scratched by the diamonds while DG dissolved into laughter, all the strain and anxiety of the past week melting away.

"This is so us," she chortled as she tried to free the coronet from her mass of dark hair. Cain chuckled and set about helping her, gently liberating the diadem and setting it aside as DG shook out her raven locks. She smiled up at him as he came back to her. "Now… where were we?"

"Right about here," he rumbled, the pad of his thumb stroking across her cheek as he kissed her again with slow, provocative passion. She leaned into him, sinking into the moment. Her hands slid up over his chest, savouring the sensation of bare skin beneath her fingers, and the arm that was curled around her waist tightened in response.

DG felt his hand reach for the fastenings at the back of the dress and come up empty. He searched her sides next, thinking that perhaps the seamstresses had gotten creative – still nothing. Memory tickled her and DG couldn't believe her rotten luck as Cain pulled back and gave her a quizzical look.

"Did they sew you into this thing?"

DG nodded sheepishly. His expression was priceless. "The zipper broke. They didn't have time to replace it."

"You're right, this is very us," he said ruefully, shaking his head. DG let out a ripple of laughter and looked him squarely in the eyes.

"Just get it off," she told him. "I don't care how."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, his lips kicking up at the corners in amusement. "If you say so, princess."

"I do," DG huffed and watched as he went to his dresser and swiftly retrieved a small knife that flashed in the moonlight. DG's pulse quickened at the idea of Wyatt Cain cutting her out of her gown. He came around to stand behind her, his hands sliding slowly down her sides to her hips in a move that made her stomach flutter. Cain's lips brushed her ear.

"Ready?" he murmured and DG nodded mutely, suddenly breathless. He had no idea how ready she was for this. A girl could only live on fantasies for so long and second chances were a rare and precious commodity.

Cain found the seam where the back of the dress had been sewn together and she heard the stitches tearing, felt the fabric become loose. DG sucked in a badly-needed lungful of air as he cast the weapon onto a nearby chair and circled around her, the fingers of one hand tracing their way around her hips as he did so.

DG claimed his mouth again, her tongue teasing his for the space of a few heartbeats before she began sliding the sleeves of the gown down her arms, revealing herself to him inch by inch. She heard Cain's swift intake of breath. His hands covered hers, pushing the dress lower until it slithered to the floor in a rustle of silk, leaving her in nothing but a scrap of lace. His palms shaped her hips, urging DG to follow him as he stepped back. Her feet slipped free of the fabric and his crystalline eyes drifted over her skin, causing a flush of heat to warm her flesh.

Cain's kisses trailed down her throat as he gathered her to him, moulding DG's softer curves to the firmer lines of his body. She could feel the hard length of him pressed against her stomach and shivered in anticipation. He took another step backwards and sat down on the foot of the bed, his lips mapping the contours of her collarbone and the tempting swell of her breasts as he brought her between his thighs.

DG's breath hitched and her fingers carded his hair, clutching him to her as his hands explored her, memorizing every inch of silk that was now exposed to him. Cain's mouth closed over one rosy nipple, his tongue circling the hardened peak in a move that made her shudder. His palm closed over its twin, stroking the supple mound until DG whimpered and his lips sought out the other breast. Her nails dug into his broad shoulders, leaving marks as he slowly wound her tighter and tighter.

Cain was under no illusions that he would be able to take it slow for much longer. He could feel DG moving restlessly in his grip, making small sexy sounds that sent a bolt of heat directly to his groin. It seemed unreal that she was finally here, almost naked in his arms, letting him touch her like this. The scent of her was heady enough without being combined with the exquisite taste of her skin.

DG mewled in protest when his mouth stopped paying homage to her flesh only to let out a broken sigh when his fingers hooked into the lace, pulling it downwards until she could step out of it. Cain's hands glided up over her calves, tracing the slim shape of her legs.

"Wyatt…" she pleaded, staring down at him with a hint of desperation. He skimmed her inner thighs and grazed the dark, damp curls the lace had hidden from view. Cain's mouth began working its magic on her breasts again and she started to pant as his fingers pressed deeper, exploring the wet folds, stroking and teasing, his thumb seeking out the small bundle of nerves that would send her over the edge. She ground down against his hand, chasing the pinnacle, her hips rolling in a motion that forced Cain to grit his teeth and take a deep breath. The blood was thundering in his ears.

DG cried out and Cain felt her clenching around him. She sagged and he grabbed hold of her hips with his free hand to steady her, her body quivering from the aftershocks. He looked up to watch the pleasure play out across her beautiful features and drank in the long, slow moan of satisfaction that escaped her. Passion-glazed eyes drifted open and her teeth scraped over her lower lip.

"You need to get out of those pants," DG murmured as she came down from the high she had been riding. She placed her hands on Cain's shoulders, pushing him back until he was propped on his elbows. Her fingers found the cotton waistline and eased it over his erection, tugging until she was able to strip him completely. She tossed that final barrier aside and rose up over him, straddling his hips as her lips plundered his. Cain sat up, taking her with him, and her knees sank into the mattress on either side of him, the dewy heat of her settling against his shaft.

Cain felt DG's hand slide down between them, her fingers curling around him, and let his breath whistle through his teeth as the contact tested his restraint. DG murmured encouragingly against his lips as she caressed and squeezed, driving the breath from his lungs. It had been too long; he knew he wouldn't last if she kept going. No man was that strong. He caught her wrist, his ice blue eyes alight with hunger as confusion coloured her expression.

"This'll be over real quick if you don't stop, Deeg," Cain growled, releasing her hand in favour of an almost bruising grip on her waist. Understanding banished the flicker of doubt and she shifted, raising her hips at the same moment Cain lifted her. A tremor slid down her spine as she felt the thickness of him filling her, creating an exquisite friction that made her pulse flutter wildly. Cain stilled for a moment, his mouth dipping to the hollow of DG's throat. His hands traced the curves of her bottom, sending electricity arcing over her already over-sensitized skin, and then he started to move, using his grip on her to spur her to do the same.

Her legs and arms wrapped around him, her body falling into the rhythm with abandon. The ache inside him continued to build, the delicious cadence of her hips writhing against his making his blood sing. Cain swallowed her moans, savouring every fractured cry that escaped her lips. She clung to him, tasting the sheen of sweat on his skin. The primal beat had them spiralling ever higher, ever faster, dancing in the darkness in pursuit of the light.

DG fell over the precipice first, her shallow breathing stopping altogether in that moment when she crested the peak. He felt her rippling around him, gasping brokenly into his mouth, as he thrust helplessly into her core. Cain joined her in completion with a shuddering groan that seemed torn from him.

Aftershocks of pleasure washed over both of them and DG went boneless in his grasp, pressing her forehead to his as they tried to catch their breath. Cain fell backwards onto the bed and she went with him, pillowing her head on his chest. DG didn't dare lift her hips away from his – she was enjoying the sensation of having him inside her as she floated in the wake of their lovemaking.

Cain's hand coiled in her tousled hair, stroking in a gentle, languid motion that made her eyes drift closed. She snuggled into him and let out a sigh of contentment.

"Wyatt?" she murmured sleepily.

"Mmm?"

"Don't ever die again," she whispered. That simple request, so full of vulnerability and longing, made his heart constrict.

"I'll try, sweetheart," he promised. "I'll try."

**FIN**

**Acknowledgements:** The name "Horner's Gate" came from the unaired pilot of _Lost In Oz_, which can be found on YouTube. "Madame Orr's house" is a nod to the best western satire movie ever – _Support Your Local Sherriff_. Other than that, nuggets from various Oz incarnations such as _Wicked_ are liberally sprinkled throughout the story. Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You all rock my socks!


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